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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318476">Nocturne</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/baridalive/pseuds/baridalive'>baridalive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Celestial Symbolism, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, King Mark Lee (NCT), Knight Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Loneliness, M/M, Magic, Miscommunication, Slow Burn, kind of?, mark's just a soft boy who's been Hardened By The World</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:35:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/baridalive/pseuds/baridalive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is the new king, Donghyuck is his knight, and neither of them are particularly fond of the other. Everything from politics to prophecies is determined to keep it that way, but magic has always had its own mind when it comes to love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>336</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Moonlight Sonata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i've had this wip in my drafts since january 2019, and i think it's high time it sees the light of day, yeah?<br/>this story has held a really special place in my heart, and i'm absolutely thrilled that i finally get the chance to share it with you &lt;3<br/>!! a small warning though !! this fic deals with death a lot, and there will be some other potentially triggering concepts that i'll do my best to tag along the way !!!<br/>so buckle up this is going to be one long [ass] ride :D</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Loss isn't a new concept for Mark Lee; it's followed him for his entire life.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Loss isn’t a new concept for Mark Lee; it’s followed him for his entire life.</p><p>The day he’s born his mother dies, the birth of her second child snipping the last strings of her life one by one. The moon goddess somehow finds within herself to bestow the cruel final blow: to deem this barely-born fetus, who has just taken the life of his own mother, worthy of being presented with some of the most extraordinary magical gifts. Second Prince Mark Lee of the Western Kingdom, chosen son of the moon goddess herself, is presented to the kingdom mere minutes before the announcement of the queen’s death arrives.</p><p>The kingdom is torn between celebrating the arrival of the new prince and mourning the death of their queen and, as Mark gets used to, he’s not chosen. He never is, and he grows to be okay with it as the years pass. Still, it’s Mark’s personal choice to never celebrate his birthday. He instead always opts to ignore it in favor of spending the day at his mother’s graveside, weaving circlets of moonflowers with his older brother Taeyong — the crown prince — and listens to him and his father recount stories of the woman Mark never knew but wishes with his whole heart he could meet some day.</p><p>When Mark is six years old, someone tries to kill him. They’re disguised as a palace servant, and have been for weeks, working their way closer to the royals until the opportune moment. Mark doesn’t know what happens that night exactly, or why he doesn’t die when a sharp blade pierces his soft abdomen. His father says the moon goddess protected him, but Mark likes to think secretly to himself that it’s his mother looking out for him. The thought helps him sleep at night. The scar doesn’t.</p><p>The next day, the servant is tried in front of the court, found guilty and, consequently, sentenced to death by beheading. Mark isn’t supposed to witness it, but his youthful curiosity leads him to a balcony overlooking the palace courtyard as the servant’s head is sliced clean off their shoulders in one fell swoop. The memory stays in his head, disturbingly vivid, for the rest of his life, and so does the blood stain on the stones of the courtyard, serving as a reminder every time he walks by.</p><p>Despite his youth, he’s grasped the concept of death with unwavering clarity. When he’s still young and his pet cat dies, he asks his father if she’s going to wake up, and his father simply responds that she’s gone to join Mark’s mother. That’s all he needs to say. Mark buries her in a little makeshift grave next to the queen’s the next afternoon, the funeral only attended by him and Taeyong. </p><p>Over the course of his childhood, Mark manages to lose all of his family. It stains his soul with inky darkness, like it would with anyone.</p><p>His two beloved aunts — his mother’s older sisters — pass away peacefully of old age, and his father’s two brother’s as well: one uncle who’s been on the royal court and the other one a bit estranged but who has been Mark’s favorite to talk to whenever he visits because of the stories he brings of foreign lands. The king mourns for much longer than anyone expects, but Mark and Taeyong stay at his side without fail.</p><p>When he’s thirteen, the king falls ill. Taeyong is set in place to take over the throne, but he insists that Mark attend all of his lessons and court sessions. Mark doesn’t understand at first, only wanting to be at his father’s side as much as he can, but Taeyong promises that it will all make sense in due time, so Mark trusts him.</p><p>The week after Mark turns fourteen, his father dies. He’s at his side when it happens, at least, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It never will, as Mark will learn later when his beloved knight dies in his arms, taking an arrow through the chest to save Mark’s own life.</p><p>Death has never felt this close and personal before. Mark feels his father’s calloused palm become limp between his own small ones; he watches up close as the light leaves his father’s eyes; he listens intently as the king’s last words cry out for his wife after he tells his sons he loves them one last time. He takes one last shuddering breath and dies there in his bedchambers, surrounded by Taeyong, Mark, and Lord Na, his closest advisor.</p><p>For all of the loss Mark has gone through, he’s never been taught to mourn. He’s only ever sat confused at his mother’s gravestone on the anniversary of her death, trying to understand how to love a mother he never knew through old stories. For his father’s funeral, he’s dressed in the finest garments and keeps a stony face as he watches the king be placed gently in the ground, covered in moonflowers. Taeyong leans over to whisper that he looks just like the queen did at her funeral, and Mark just nods, unsure of what to do with the information.</p><p>He doesn’t cry for his father, like so many seem to expect him to do, like Taeyong and Lord Na do but try to hide. Mark feels hollow, a piece of his heart carved straight out of his chest and buried underground among the moonflowers in his father’s casket. He takes comfort in knowing a piece of Taeyong’s lies right next to his, at least.</p><p>The comfort doesn’t last long because not too long after the funeral passes, Mark loses Taeyong, too, though not in the same way. Taeyong runs away because he feels unfit to become king, leaving that task in the small, trembling hands of his younger brother who only has fourteen years under his belt. He has enough grace to tell Mark why, although Mark isn’t sure it matters in the end; he tells Mark he’s sorry as he slips a necklace over his head, and Mark doesn’t have to look at it to know that the chain carries Taeyong’s royal ring, the same one his father had worn for so many years. The last time Mark ever sees his brother is just after he presses the gentlest of kisses to his guard’s cheek before pulling up the hood of his cloak, shouldering a small bag of possessions, and walking out the door. Neither Mark nor the guard follow.</p><p>That night, the moon goddess speaks to him for the first time. She tells him of the future, that Mark has to be prepared to lose himself or consequences will befall many everyone around him that loves him. She tells him that if he’s ever to fall in love, one of them will die. She tells him many things; the only one he takes any solace in is that he alone has the power to save the ones he holds dear, and it’s by hiding that he holds them dear. Mark thinks he can do that. If he’s survived this much loss already, he’s more than prepared to lose himself in order to save the ones around him; it can’t hurt him nearly as much to lose himself than another loved one. </p><p>The day the goddess first speaks to him is the day Mark locks away his heart inside of his chest, hidden behind a gilded cage of pain and sorrow. Mark thinks he threw the key away completely, but the goddess finds the small thing in the grass by the queen’s grave that night and tucks it into the pocket of a sleeping boy in the barracks, brushing back his unruly, curly hair with a loving touch before disappearing. The sleeping boy won’t know of its presence for years, but it might just be the key to saving Mark’s life if he can figure out how to use it in time. </p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The morning of Mark’s eighteenth birthday arrives with a bit too much fanfare for his taste. As far as Mark’s concerned — and frankly, as far as most of the <em> kingdom </em> is concerned — he’s already been the king for nearly four years, despite only being able to hold the title of crown prince until he’s of age. The coronation is an unnecessary and frivolous formality, but Mark puts up with it for the sake of his people, who clearly wish to celebrate the crowning of their not-so-new king. </p><p>A frenzy consumes the palace as the sun rises, but Mark finds himself slipping away from the insanity of it all just as the first golden rays peek over the eastern sky, dimming the stars that Mark has come to know so well. He doesn’t go far, just out to the balcony that looks out across the expansive gardens behind the palace. He gently closes the doors behind him so the bustle of activity in the halls dulls down to barely a hum. </p><p>His shoulders relax once he’s alone, allowing himself to forget about the weight of the kingdom resting on them for just a moment. His eyes immediately scour the brightening sky for the moon. He finds it nestled in the fading periwinkle of the nighttime, partially tucked behind the northern mountains in the far distance, and he bows his head in greeting to the moon goddess. </p><p>“Good morning,” he greets aloud with a type of softness that surprises even himself, his fingers stopping in their course for a moment where they’d been running gently along the stone railing of the balcony. He doesn’t say anything else because he doesn’t have to. The goddess knows everything he’s thinking already, or at least always seems to, and it brings Mark an odd sense of comfort. </p><p>She knows about the coronation, about how much he misses his parents, how much he wishes things were different. There’s nothing she can do and Mark knows this, so he watches on calmly as the golden rays of the sun stretch up into the sky, bringing in the early morning on their coattails as the moon disappears and Mark’s alone again.</p><p>He leans on the railing, looking down at the gardens below. Normally, at this time of morning, there’d be gardeners out and about amidst the flowers and fruit trees, taking in a fresh harvest for the day. Now, though, it’s vacant. He’s tempted to go down and walk among the flora to calm himself but he’s not so irresponsible as to leave the palace right now, especially without telling anyone. He has a duty to the palace, to the kingdom, to his people and he would rather die than forsake it.</p><p>The other reason holding him back from the gardens is the thought of the little patch of moonflowers in the back corner, which Mark planted there for Yuta not even days ago. His chest constricts, making it hard to breathe as he remembers touching the ground there, watching the flowers sprout where he willed as thoughts of his most beloved guard, his knight, killed in front of his eyes, spilled through his mind’s eye. He remembers feeling useless, his powers unable to heal the gushing wound in Yuta’s chest, but Yuta just hushed his desperate cries. He smiled up at Mark, reaching to cup Mark’s cheek with his bare hand before his eyes glossed over, unseeing at last as he fell limp in Mark’s lap. </p><p>Grief wells up in his body once more, but Mark refuses to cry. He’s shed so many tears already, and now is not the time to continue. He takes a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from the gardens below, and prepares himself to go back into his chambers and get ready. A pair of morning larks chirp back and forth somewhere close, blissfully ignorant of Mark’s darkened state of mind as the future king turns to open the balcony doors, but Na Jaemin beats him to it.</p><p>“Mark, I swear if you’ve been—” Jaemin flings the doors open, thundering into Mark’s sanctuary, breaking both the tranquility and Mark’s downward spiral of thoughts in a flurry consisting of formal attire and a sunny smile. “Oh, apologies, prince… I didn’t know you were still…” He inclines his head just barely when he sees Mark hide his bare hands behind his back.</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting you here quite so early this morning, so I do apologize for my state of undress,” Mark comments, unfazed. If anyone’s going to see him without his usual gloves, Mark’s glad it’s just Jaemin and no one else. There are rules of royal propriety that Mark will stretch a little thin for the sake of his best friend, and the whole wear-gloves-all-the-time-and-never-let-anyone-touch-you mantra that the lords and ladies of the court expect him to uphold has grown stifling as of late, not that he’d ever admit thinking such a thing.</p><p>“You’re upset,” Jaemin observes, cocking his hip against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest and looking at Mark down the bridge of his nose in the way that makes Mark feel like Jaemin sees right through him. It’s unnerving in a way only Jaemin can manage.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“You’re upset,” he repeats.</p><p>“I know what you said, Jaemin,” Mark replies, breezing past him back into his room. “I was more asking what makes you think that.</p><p>“Your fingers are glowing.” Jaemin follows him back inside, closing the doors behind him with much more care than he opened them with. Mark glances down at his hands and much to his chagrin, he finds his fingertips glowing the soft blue that he’s come to have a mixed relationship with. In a few quick steps, though, Mark’s over at his bedside table, grabbing the pair of gloves he always leaves there and slipping them on before turning back around to face Jaemin.</p><p>When their eyes meet, Jaemin looks so disappointed that Mark almost feels bad. Almost.</p><p>“Take them off, Mark,” Jaemin says. “We need to talk about this, and you pretending the feelings aren’t there won’t make them disappear.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I can’t try.” Mark’s gone through enough lessons as a child to know that it’s extraordinarily impolite and improper to mumble, so he delivers his childish comment with his chin up and voice clear. It’s meant to be teasing, but there’s a little too much truth in it for either of them to hold it as a jest.</p><p><em> “Goddess, </em> Mark, let down your walls for five minutes so we can talk about this! You’re not okay, and that’s alright. You just lost someone close to you again and you need to talk with someone about this. As your best friend, I can be that person for you if you’ll just let me!” Jaemin loses his cool at Mark’s tone, raising his voice slightly in return until he realizes who he’s speaking to — best friend or not, Mark’s about to be crowned as his king. “I just want to help, but I can’t if you don’t let me in.”</p><p>“This discussion won’t happen today,” Mark begins, cautious. “I need to keep myself in check. You, of all people, as my <em> best friend, </em> should know why.” He takes Jaemin’s words, coats them in sugar and venom, and delivers them right back, wrapped in delicate civility.</p><p>“If by ‘keep yourself in check’ you mean ‘bottle up your emotions like you’ve been doing since your father died until something snaps one day and you finally have to face the consequences,’ which I know you do, then no, you don’t have to keep yourself in check.” Jaemin stalks across the room, taking Mark’s gloved hands in his bare ones. “Mark, <em> please, </em> just let me help. Just this once, then you can build your stone walls back up around your heart for as long as you’d like, but I need you to talk to me about what’s going on inside of your head because it’s killing you. It’s killing <em> me </em>to see it killing you.”</p><p>Mark swallows with difficulty when he feels Jaemin tug on the fabric of one of the gloves, but doesn’t stop him. He closes his eyes for a moment, turning his head to the side so he doesn’t have to see the pity on Jaemin’s face as he slowly takes Mark’s gloves off, which Mark has never let anyone other than himself or Taeyong do before. He hadn’t even let his father or Yuta take them off before, but here he is, letting Jaemin do it. He doesn’t know what it means, but there’s too much going on in his head for him to address that right now.</p><p>“You’re terrified,” Jaemin says softly, and Mark sees the gloves fall to the floor out of the corner of his vision. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”</p><p>“I don’t tell you a lot of things,” Mark quips. Jaemin tightens his grip on Mark’s hands for that, tight enough to make Mark wince before he relaxes. “It’s not your burden to bear, Jaem,” he finally admits, still not looking at Jaemin, even when he uses the old nickname.</p><p>Jaemin reaches up, his hands hovering just to the side of Mark’s jaw, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of his hands. He doesn’t even get as far as touching Mark’s skin before Mark flinches away so violently that he nearly tears his hands out of Jaemin’s. The last person to touch him like that was Yuta, and it’s still too soon, <em> goddess </em>it’s too soon. </p><p>“I’m here for you, you stubborn idiot,” Jaemin sighs, “and I’m ready to listen whenever you want to talk.” His hand still hangs just shy of where Mark’s cheek was, and Mark finally turns his head back to look at Jaemin of his own accord.</p><p>There’s a knock at the bedroom door all of a sudden, and Mark opens his mouth to dismiss them, but the door swings open before he can get a sound out. A collective gasp follows rather quickly, and Mark doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s a small gaggle of palace maids, surely sent to help him get ready for the day’s events.</p><p>He imagines the picture that he and Jaemin must paint right now: an advisor nearly touching the crown prince’s cheek, the gloves on the floor, and all of it in the prince’s bedchambers of all places. He wants to laugh, but he knows this will be the subject of all palace gossip for the next few weeks, if not longer. Taking a deep breath, he shoves all of his emotions deep back inside of his chest where he won’t think about them for a while, and watches the glow drain out of his fingertips when he steps away from Jaemin’s touch, thankful that he’s positioned in such a way that his hands are hidden from the prying eyes of the maids.</p><p>One meaningful glance directed at Jaemin has him pursing his lips, but stooping down to scoop up Mark’s gloves anyway, carefully handing them off before stepping back to a much less intimate distance. Mark slips on the gloves, taking a beat longer than necessary to steady himself before he turns to face the shocked face of the three maids frozen in the doorway that Jaemin’s already glaring daggers at.</p><p>“It’s polite to await a response from a room’s inhabitant before opening the door,” Mark reminds, his voice returning to his usual cold and even tone. “I’m disappointed that I have to remind you of this, but I’m sure that you’ll do better in the future, yes?”</p><p>They all hastily nod, apologies and excuses spilling from their lips, all the words melding into an incoherent mess to Mark’s ears, and it takes all of his willpower not to sigh at them. Instead, he just raises a gloved hand, stopping them immediately.</p><p>“Lessons must be learned, and neither excuses nor apologies will help you here.”</p><p>Something in Mark’s voice must twist Jaemin just the wrong way because when he speaks up, it’s equally as despondent. </p><p>“The Knight Trials will commence at high noon. Your presence is expected, crown prince.”</p><p>Mark whirls on him, <em> “What?” </em> </p><p>“Commander Jung has made a lineup of the best soldiers we have to offer, and your new knight will keep you well protected.”</p><p>“I thought we agreed on more time,” Mark objects. Having a new knight this soon after Yuta’s passing isn’t something he’s sure he can handle.</p><p>“We can’t afford to wait any longer to give you protection. The moment you’re crowned king, you’ll be expected to make political excursions, and doing that without a knight isn’t something we can risk. You know the threats that are out there… unless you’ve forgotten what your previous knight died protecting you from,” Jaemin decrees with a pompous sort of formality that Mark wants to tear right out of his throat and burn it right along with that smug expression on his face.</p><p>The smirk doesn’t last for long because as the words hang in the air, they lose their attractive shine and are left to be stripped down to the bare bones of what they are, whether intentionally or not: words to hurt Mark in whatever way they can. Jaemin’s face drops when he realizes what he’s said, and regards the way Mark’s lips form a thin line but he stays silent, waiting for Jaemin to recognize his own mistake.</p><p>“My prince, I—” Jaemin starts, knowing he’s overstepped a boundary in words that can’t be taken back.</p><p>“That’s quite enough, Lord Na.” His tone goes from calm to frigid, making Jaemin flinch. “You’re dismissed. I’m sure you have duties to attend to elsewhere.”</p><p>Mark doesn’t turn away, staring Jaemin down as he opens his mouth to reply, most likely with another apology, before thinking better of it and sealing it into a thin line. He breezes out of the room, but not before giving the maids a flirtatious wink in a way that he knows irks Mark. He has to take a deep breath as he listens to Jaemin’s soft footfalls disappear down the hallway, calming himself down before beckoning the maids in to help. They’re a bit skittish around him, but they do their duties without further failures, and then leave him to change into his formal attire as is customary. </p><p>No one’s allowed to see a royal’s bare skin aside from their face, the only exceptions to the rule being the royal’s immediate family or consort. The rule has been in place for as far back as the Western Kingdom’s history dates. All of the sketches of royalty on the yellowed pages of the old books in the back corners of the library that Mark has found joy in reading on quiet nights detail outfits that expose nothing but the face and upper neck. He’s never known any different — even as a child he’d be scolded for not buttoning his shirts all the way up to his chin, even on the hottest days of summer. </p><p>Not even Mark was immune to the burning, youthful curiosity that ripples through every young child as they begin to explore the world on their own, so he’d naturally asked about it. His tutor explained to him that it was simply considered improper for a royal to expose themselves, that it represents baring their true selves. Mark had asked why that was so bad, but his tutor had just shaken her head with a smile and directed his attention back to his lessons. Later that day, he’d gotten in trouble again for not wearing a high collar to dinner, and he recalls that even letting the maids see so much as his adam’s apple caused his father to frown. </p><p>His fingers work deftly to button his shirt all the way up to the underside of his chin despite it being the middle of summer still — he’s grown into appreciation of the rule, knowing that it’s more of a symbol of power than anything else, and it’s something that Mark wears proudly now. He takes his time to put on the intricate coronation robes, making sure the high collar is uncreased before swinging the deep blue cape around his shoulder and fastening it at the base of his throat. Mark remembers his father wearing the very same cape at formal events, and pauses to hug it tightly around himself, feeling like a child bundled in a blanket that’s not meant for him. He runs his fingers along the embroidery at the hem, the silver thread outlining the phases of the moon between curly-cue designs of other cosmic bodies smooth beneath his fingertips. </p><p>He can’t miss his father right now, though. He can later, when the fanfare for the day has calmed to a hum and Mark is left alone with his thoughts and the moon. For now, though, he has to focus on the day ahead of him. He has an entire kingdom looking up to him for leadership, as a pillar of strength, and he can’t afford to let them down. Mark shoves those whimsical memories of his youth, his father, and his brother down as far as he can, knowing they won’t resurface until everything is quiet and he’s allowed to break down when no one’s looking. </p><p>Taeyong used to tell him that if he cries, to never feel ashamed, and to know that shedding tears is a demonstration of strength. Mark can’t help but think that if there’s one thing he’d ever disagree with his brother on, it’s that. He hasn’t cried since his father’s funeral — it makes him feel useless, like there’s nothing he can do to remedy a situation other than shed tears. Even with all of the gifts the moon goddess gave him, he couldn’t save his father, he couldn’t save Yuta, and he still can’t bring Taeyong back. He feels like a failure unless he holds his tears back, stays calm, and slips himself into the aloof mold he’s carefully crafted for himself over the years.</p><p>Mark grits his teeth together and lets the cape fall back behind him as he opens a small chest on his dresser. Dozens of gloves stare back up at him in a range of colors and fabrics, all of them mocking as they lay on their bed of crimson velvet. He hesitates for a moment, but picks out one of the gaudier pairs in the end, simply because the embroidery on the back matches that of his cape. The soft, white fabric pulls smoothly over his fingers, the delicate lace trim around his wrists slides neatly under the cuffs of his sleeves and he watches the way the silvery thread glitters in the slots of sunlight. They’re the same gloves his mother wore on her coronation day so many years ago. He clenches his teeth together, flexing his fingers once before shutting the lid of the chest and sweeping out of his chambers with long, purposeful strides.</p><p>He appreciates that the servants and ladies-in-waiting he passes in the corridors have enough tact not to ask him how he’s doing. It’s no secret among the palace attendants that Mark would much rather be spending today at his mother’s graveside and it’s taking no minimal feat of strength to keep himself presentable today. He’s never rude to who he passes, simply curt and a little detached — nothing unexpected from his usual demeanor. </p><p>Muscle memory brings his feet through the threshold of the throne room, his mind rushing a million other places yet nowhere all at once. He’s relieved to see the bowed heads of Jaemin and Taeil when he pushes the doors open, his advisors greeting him in their usual formal manner. </p><p>Mark merely hums in acknowledgement, unable to stop his gaze from turning towards the pair of thrones at the end of the room. The one on the left, reserved for the true ruler of the kingdom, last used by his mother as she was the High Queen of the kingdom and his father had married into his power. Mark will take her place on the left later today, having to fill in the gap she left in the kingdom’s heart so long ago. The more he thinks about it, the less he thinks that he can do it, so he forces his mind onto other matters.</p><p>“Good morning, Taeil,” he begins with noticeable more warmth in his voice before he turns to Jaemin and greets him with a stern, “Lord Na.”</p><p>“Greetings, my prince,” Taeil returns. Jaemin stays silent, not meeting Mark’s eye. Taeil visibly notes the tension between the two, but doesn’t comment on it, instead simply raising an inquiring brow that Mark blatantly ignores. He’ll explain it later; he’s not in the mood to deal with a petty Jaemin at the moment.</p><p>“Is Jaehyun late?” He scans the room, expecting his commander to be waiting there to escort him down to the colosseum, but he’s nowhere in sight.</p><p>“On the contrary. He’s already down at the colosseum conducting the first of the Trials for the candidates. You’re only expected to be there for the last one. He’ll meet us down there,” Taeil supplies with a kind smile. “Horses are being brought up from the stables as we speak to ready a carriage for your arrival.”</p><p>“Taeil, it’s enough to follow the rest of the traditions today. Is it completely out of the question for me to ride there on my own steed?” Mark isn’t fond of carriages for many reasons, but he always feels like he’s isolated from his people when he’s in them simply because of his status, and it makes him sick. “My father told me that a good leader is one with their people, not above them. I’d like to be able to greet my subjects on the way down.” It’s a flimsy defense as most of the kingdom is surely already packed into the colosseum to watch the Trials from beginning to end.</p><p>Jaemin huffs under his breath at that, but Mark doesn’t miss it; he sharpens his gaze at him. Taeil murmurs something to one of the pages in the room before sending him scurrying off, presumably to accommodate Mark’s request.</p><p>“Don’t huff at me, Lord Na. You know the importance of that better than anyone, and it’s why I value you as I do. It also helps that you provide a very different perspective on things than a sheltered prince and an old man.” Mark lets a smile curve at the corners of his lips, and in return receives a lighthearted chuckle from Jaemin. The boys ignore Taeil’s indignant noise at being called an old man in favor of stifling their smiles.</p><p>“Alright, we’d best be on our way. I don’t think Jaehyun will be very pleased if we’re late,” Jaemin urges. Mark nods, leading the way out of the throne room and through grand doors in the hall that serve as the main entrance to the palace, his heart already considerably lighter in his chest.</p><p>The first thing he sees when he steps outside is a gleaming white mare, grey speckles on her flank, and Mark’s heart gets caught in his throat. It’s been months since he’s gotten to see River in her stables, and even longer since he last rode her. River’s mother was Mark’s mother’s favorite horse, and when she gave birth to a filly, Mark took to her immediately, charmed by her recklessness and wild spirit. He remembers taking her out for rides alongside Yuta in the expansive forests, spending all day out in the woods just frolicking around, teasing each other playfully and—</p><p>Mark has to physically shake the thought from his head, reaching forward to stroke the side of River’s neck. She leans into his touch, nuzzling gently into his neck and it makes Mark smile. She’s all saddled up, and Mark doesn’t bother taking the awaiting hand of the nearby guard intending to help him get on, instead swinging himself up on his own, seating himself gracefully on River’s back. </p><p>He makes a mental reminder to take River out more, even if it’s just for something as small as a walk in the garden. He misses her, and knows that her being cooped up in the royal stables must be irritating. Petting the side of her neck, he spurs her on gently and begins the way down from the palace to the colosseum. </p><p>It isn’t far from the palace gates to the colosseum where the Trials are being held, and most of the walk is spent in silence. Mark simply soaks up the sun from River’s back, watching more the towns in the distance, their vivid colors and undeniable liveliness increasing with every step, than the palace shrinking into the background behind him without so much as a whisper. As expected, no villagers linger about the path to the palace today, and Mark knows that everyone who can is already packed into and around the colosseum to watch the festivities.</p><p>Mark misses being able to go out to the villages on the weekends, misses walking through the markets with flowers and fruits of every color imaginable laid out across tables, misses being able to drop formality and play with the children around the fountains in the town square. Even with Yuta at his side, it didn’t happen often and it was a rare treat for Mark to be able to leave the palace and his duties behind for a few hours.</p><p>He wonders if he might be able to return with his new knight once he’s king. It’s unlikely, given the increasing threat of bandits and rogues that have begun to plague the western forests. It’s a problem Mark has spent many months trying to solve peacefully, but peace didn’t seem to be in their minds when they shot Yuta through the chest with an arrow intended for Mark. He grimaces, clenching River’s reins a little tighter, glad that the gloves mask his white-knuckled grip.</p><p>“My king,” Taeil starts, trotting up beside him on his own dappled stallion, tearing him away from his thoughts. “It was my idea to have the Knight Trials today, not Jaemin’s. I fear for your safety, now more than ever, and as much as it hurts, it’s important that you have someone by your side to keep you safe.”</p><p>“I understand, Taeil,” Mark replies, looking over. “It’s a wise decision, and it’s one that I wouldn’t have chosen to make for a much longer time. All is forgiven.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t hold it against you anyway, Taeil.” Jaemin piping up from Mark’s other side is so unexpected that even River jolts a little underneath Mark. “I remember a time last year when one of the children in the palace caused a rip in his favorite jacket, and all he did was teach them how to sew instead of giving them any kind of punishment.”</p><p>“And she’s the greatest seamstress the palace has to offer now even though she’s younger than I am. What about it?” Mark raises an eyebrow playfully. </p><p>“I didn’t even know you could sew,” Taeil muses, glancing over. </p><p>“I have a special place in my heart for children. There’s so much pressure on their shoulders to be the greatest and to never make mistakes, but often times, I’ve found that our greatest successes come from the very mistakes that they’ve been groomed to fear.”</p><p>“Are you trying to become a philosopher instead of the king, or what?” Jaemin jokes, and an unexpected laugh bubbles up in Mark’s throat at that. He can’t stop himself before it spills from his lips, and it seems to surprise Jaemin and Taeil just as much as it does himself. He lets his grip on the reins loosen as they approach the colosseum, and Mark can spot Jaehyun standing in the archway serving as an entrance, clearing a path through the people that stand there because the colosseum is at capacity.</p><p>He’s a comforting sight. Jaehyun’s known Mark longer than anyone else still in the palace, including Jaemin. Before Jaehyun was commander, he served as Taeyong’s knight, and by extension, Mark’s because of all the time the brothers spent together. If anyone’s to know the mess that Mark’s head is right now, it would be him. </p><p>“Good morning, commander,” Mark greets smoothly as he slides off of River, patting the side of her neck gently before letting one of the attendants take her reins to lead her off out of the blazing sun. Likewise, Jaehyun ushers the newcomers into the shade of the colosseum entry. </p><p>“Are you ready, young king?” Jaehyun asks softly, leading them up the familiar stone staircases that lead to the little shaded balcony where the royalty watch the events from. “I know how…” he trails off, not needing to say anything further because they understand each other.</p><p>“It’s a duty, Jaehyun,” Mark responds calmly, glossing over the ‘young king’ nickname that Jaehyun’s picked up on using ever since Taeyong left. It doesn’t bother him how Jaehyun uses the title so casually, a comforting warmth blooming in his chest where the annoyance would reside if anyone else called him that. “We both know I have to, no matter how difficult it may be.”</p><p>“You’ll make a great king, Mark,” he replies, stopping just before the entrance to the balcony, out of sight of the roaring crowd. Jaemin and Taeil enter, leaving Mark and Jaehyun alone in the hallway for a moment.</p><p>“I already do,” Mark ventures jokingly, delivering a grin that’s only for Jaehyun’s eyes. </p><p>Jaehyun chuckles, reaching forward to brush a stray speck off of Mark’s shoulder. The touch is brotherly, comforting in a manner that only Jaehyun can give. </p><p>“I’ll go ready the candidates, then.” Jaehyun pulls back, returning Mark’s smile, the little indents in his cheeks that don’t often show make a brief appearance. He spins on his heel then, leaving to go to the main floor and ready the last ones standing for the final fight, the one that Mark will use to judge the winner of the Trials.</p><p>Mark allows himself to spend another short moment alone there in the half-shadowed hallway. He adjusts the gloves on his fingers, examining how even in the darkness, the silver thread still glitters. His mind is reeling, trying to piece together how he’s going to address the crowd, trying to decide which words to put together that will appeal to the most hearts, because at the center of it all, the Trials are a political event and he’d be a fool not to treat it as such. </p><p>It’s a tool for the nobility to judge their royalty, for the strongest non-nobility to clamber for some form of power amongst those born into a higher class, for the citizens to make a connection with their ruler, no matter how superficial it is. Mark’s always despised it. Tradition is never shaken so easily, though, and Mark still has to follow through. He clenches his fists once, twice, before letting his hands fall to his sides and striding out into the nobility’s box reserved just for him, joining Jaemin and Taeil to greet the cheering crowds of his people. </p><p>He pastes on the best smile he can muster. Luckily, it won’t really matter that it doesn’t reach his eyes because most everyone is too far away to see. Raising a gloved hand, Mark signals the crowds to quiet down, and much to his surprise, they actually do. He forgets sometimes that he’s already regarded as the king.</p><p>“It’s been five years since the last Knight Trials, bringing us the beloved Sir Nakamoto as our champion.” Mark’s voice booms across the wide space with some unforeseen help, and Mark’s inclined to say that would be the goddess’s doing. “Today, we continue to mourn our loss of him, but in a form of celebration and rebirth, letting him watch over the joyful festivities of the day. To the candidates that remain, may his spirit and the goddess be with you in this final test.” He turns to face the center of the colosseum with his last words, directing them to the two armor-clad figures that stand proudly side by side. </p><p>When Mark finishes, the one on the left bows toward him, bending at the waist and stooping low in respect before walking away to one side of the arena. The other one, curiously, just cocks their helmet-covered head to the side, as if sizing Mark up all the way from down there, then simply inclines at the neck before walking away as well. There’s a yellow stripe painted hastily up the side of the curious one’s armor, the other donning a blue one in the same place.</p><p>Jaehyun’s there in the center of the arena too, exchanging words with the candidates that Mark can’t hear, but he knows the rules all-too-well. A basic broadsword is the only weapon allowed, armor is both permitted and encouraged, and it’s a fight until the death or mercy is called, whichever arrives first. It’s never settled particularly well with Mark, the way it’s run, but no one’s been killed doing it for generations, and it’s not looked down upon to call mercy instead of being killed in a supposedly-friendly match. At least <em> Mark </em>doesn’t look down upon it.</p><p>Jaehyun exits the playing field, a horn sounds, and the final Trial begins.</p><p>As Mark watches from the box, he’s unceremoniously thrown back to when he watched Yuta complete the same Trial so many years ago, although he’d been standing between his father and his brother at the time instead the people that have filled those holes in his life. Yuta had been the first knight to ever win not by having his opponent call for mercy, but for Yuta to show it himself. In his entire life, that’s the strongest thing Mark’s ever seen anyone do: compete with the intention of taking a life, but to choose for themselves not to take it. It’s bravery beyond even what Mark’s father had expected, and that’s why Mark and Yuta had been so close — they shared a very similar set of morals. </p><p>Mark leans over the railing of the balcony, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn’t cheer for either contestant, instead staying impassive and judgemental as he watches the battle unfold in front of him: swords grinding and armor clashing in the late morning sunlight. Neither of them seem to be consistently holding the upper hand, but Mark can tell that one of them is still holding back, the one with the yellow stripe.</p><p>The moment the yellow stops holding back, they strike with such power and precision that Mark’s almost taken aback. Until then, they hadn’t been sloppy, but they’d been merely an average fighter by the looks of it, and now… now they’re a whirlwind of strength and agility, dodging the few blows the blue manages to sneak in, but they’re no match for the yellow at their full strength.</p><p>Not too long after, Yellow disarms Blue, making their sword fly off into the dirt before knocking them over with a solid kick to the chest. Yellow stands over Blue, sword pointed at their throat, ready to slice and, by extension, kill them. </p><p>The crowd is silent, waiting for the plea of ‘mercy’ to come. It doesn’t.</p><p>Yellow presses harder into Blue’s throat, clearly unwilling to kill, but Blue is unwilling to call for mercy. The entire kingdom holds its breath. </p><p>“You’re going to let this happen?” Jaemin asks quietly out of the corner of his mouth, barely a whisper.</p><p>“You know the rules of the Trials, Jaemin,” Mark says, not taking his eyes off of the two figures. “Just wait.”</p><p>The yellow knight bends down, their blade never leaving Blue’s neck, clearly speaking lowly to them. Yellow’s voice doesn’t carry very far, but Blue’s does.</p><p>“Either you kill me or you call it off. It’s not my choice to end this fight. What would make him proud?”</p><p>Mark leans forward over the balustrade, unable to hide his interest any longer.</p><p>There are a dozen hushed curses that come next before, finally, Yellow speaks.</p><p>“I’m sparing your life, then,” Yellow huffs out, loud and clear despite being out of breath. Mark, once again, blames the goddess for how far the sound carries. They take their sword away from the blue’s throat with a flourish, sheathing it at their side before offering a hand down to help them up. “Satisfied?”</p><p>“Very.” </p><p>Mark can hear the smile in Blue’s voice as they accept Yellow’s hand and haul themselves to their feet. The horn sounds again, and the crowd is deafening. Mark leans back, not realizing how tense he was until he finally breathes again. It’s almost worth a laugh. Almost. Instead, Mark just lets the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.</p><p>“Do you have a champion?” Jaemin looks over at him.</p><p>“I have a champion.” Mark nods, gently patting his gloved hands together along with the roar of the crowd.</p><p>Jaehyun enters back into the arena, and the noise subsides slowly as he positions himself between the two candidates. He raises his hand over Yellow’s head, squinting all the way up to the balcony where Mark stands. It’s almost comical the way everyone’s heads turn from the arena up to the box almost simultaneously, all waiting with baited breath to see his verdict. He doesn’t have a choice, really. His confirmation is more of a formality than anything.</p><p>Mark nods once.</p><p>The entire colosseum collectively loses it.</p><p>He can only make the assumption that the candidate, now the champion, must be popular among the people given the reactions they’re receiving. Even the blue knight goes and pulls the yellow into a crushing, one-armed hug that seems to take both of them off-guard. </p><p>For the hundredth time, Mark’s reminded of Yuta. He has to shove that right out of his head because there are still so many eyes on him and if he shows even the slightest crack, he’s sure he’ll never hear the end of it. Despite his parents being beloved and Mark already being a just ruler, there are always those who doubt him, waiting to strike when he’s at his weakest. Mark’s determined not to give them anything to hit at, so he stays impassive, politely clapping as cheers ring out and the day of festivities commences.</p><p>The champion takes off their helmet, but the sun glints down, reflecting off their chestplate in a way that makes it impossible to distinguish any of their features amidst the blinding light. Mark gives up trying because he knows that no matter how hard he looks, the champion won’t be Yuta. </p><p>It’s pathetic, really, how fixated Mark is on Yuta when he has other, much more important things his mind should be dwelling on. His coronation in a few hours, for instance, and the anniversary of his mother’s death for another, and the fact that he has to knight someone he doesn’t even know to be the next Yuta. Something ugly twists in his gut at the last thought. The next Yuta, like he can be replaced.</p><p>Mark can’t tear his mind from those thoughts on the ride back to the palace, this time accompanied by a significantly larger party of guards now that the townsfolk have started leaving the colosseum in droves, going to prepare themselves to watch the crowning of their new king later that afternoon and the celebrations that will follow late into the night. He listens idly to Jaemin and Taeil chatter about the fight, but tunes them out the moment they arrive back in the palace courtyard.</p><p>“I’m going to walk River back to her stables,” Mark says, turning to his advisors. “Do I need someone to accompany me?” It comes out a little more venomous than he intends, but no one looks bothered by it. </p><p>“I’ll go with you,” Jaemin volunteers. “Ransom needs to go back to the stables too.” He reaches down to pat his stallion’s neck lovingly.</p><p>Mark nods and tugs on River’s reins so they can trot off, knowing Jaemin — handy with that dagger he always keeps strapped to his leg — will serve as his protection if he needs it. Mark would follow suit, but it’s against customs for a royal to be armed unless in battle, so the most he’s ever done is shoot makeshift slingshots as a child.</p><p>Jaemin doesn’t speak, and Mark’s thankful. They approach the stables with as much silence as the ambiance of the palace preparations will allow, and Mark slides off River when they finally enter. It’s second nature to him to go through the motions of getting River settled back down in the stables even though it’s been a while. He’s not dressed in the proper attire to be getting her unsaddled and out of her bit, so he settles just for running his fingers through her mane and leading her to her stall.</p><p>“I’ll take you out again soon, I promise,” he whispers, barely loud enough for himself to hear as he strokes her muzzle. It earns him an affectionate snort in return.</p><p>When he calls over the stable boy to take care of her, Jaemin’s already waiting back at the entrance, Ransom grazing on some dry oats in the trough in his stall. He walks side-by-side with Jaemin back into the throne room, meeting an eager Taeil.</p><p>“What’s got you so bouncy?” Jaemin asks when he sees the way he’s raised himself up onto the balls of his feet slightly.</p><p>“Jaehyun’s on his way up with the new knight,” Taeil replies, his calm voice posing an odd contrast with his demeanor.</p><p>“He’s not a knight yet.” Mark strides across the room until he’s standing in front of the two thrones that his parents last occupied. He doesn’t even get the chance to let his thoughts stray before the door from the main hall is thrown open and in strides Jaehyun, followed closely by an old acquaintance, barely cleaned up from the fight but no longer in his armor.</p><p>As a symbol of respect, Jaehyun bows before Mark when he enters, and Mark notes that the knight-to-be doesn’t do the same. He hasn’t changed a bit, it seems.</p><p>“Crown prince Mark, I present to you Lee Donghyuck, top trainee in swordsmanship, strategy, and close combat, as well as my own protégé. He’s the champion you’ve selected,” Jaehyun introduces.</p><p>Mark eyes Donghyuck, taking in just how much he’s changed since he was just that little village boy Mark used to see hanging around the training facilities. He remembers how ruthless Donghyuck was with his words, teasing Mark just for the sake of riling him up, and Mark could never fight back without breaking a rule, so he had to sit and take the ridicule while his father spoke with his commander.</p><p>He remembers the one day he hissed something in return, that Donghyuck could never grow up to be as strong as a knight. It appears that he took that as a challenge, working his way up to be the best he could, only to find out that the boy who put that fire into him is the one he has to protect. Mark can only imagine what Donghyuck must be feeling, but the furrow in his brows tells Mark more than he needs to know.</p><p>After a long moment and a pointed cough from Jaehyun, Donghyuck finally bows. He has yet to make eye contact with Mark.</p><p>“If his majesty will have me, I’d be honored to serve in his name,” he says as if he’s reciting it from a parchment in front of him: dull, monotone, and completely lackluster. It’s quite befitting, really.</p><p>“You can finally wield a sword, then, Lee Donghyuck?” Mark tilts his head, taking in the way Donghyuck’s body tenses up at the insinuation that Mark remembers the first time they met when Donghyuck failed to show off his swordsmanship in front of the prince and instead just settled for making fun of him.</p><p>“I didn’t think his majesty would remember me,” Donghyuck speaks to the floor. Mark wants to snort in disdain. It would be hard to forget a person like that, and he doesn’t mean that in a flattering way.</p><p>“Rise and look at me.”</p><p>Donghyuck raises his head in time for Mark to step right in front of him, and his eyes widen in surprise but he doesn’t move back. He stands his ground, looking Mark right in the eye, his lips pulled into a thin line. Mark notes that their heights are much closer than they were as kids, but Mark still remains just a touch taller. He counts it as a small victory and files it away in his mind for later celebration. </p><p>“You’ve grown,” he muses.</p><p>“Can’t say the same for you,” Donghyuck fires back and Mark wants to laugh out loud when he freezes, realizing what he’s just said to his future king.</p><p>Jaehyun looks mortified, but Jaemin’s face is red from trying to hold in his laughter, and Taeil doesn’t look like he quite knows what to make of Donghyuck yet. </p><p>“I accept Lee Donghyuck as my knight, Jaehyun,” Mark declares, turning away from Donghyuck and moving to stand by Jaehyun. “You’re free to get both him and yourself more suitable for the ceremony. Don’t lose track of time.” He dismisses the two of them with a nod, his eyes burning into Donghyuck’s back as he leaves the room stiffly.</p><p>The moment the doors shut, Jaemin bursts out laughing, and Mark can’t help but smile along. Taeil clicks his tongue against his teeth, admonishing the behavior, but even Mark can see the corners of his lips turning upwards. </p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck doesn’t cross Mark’s mind again until the coronation when he sees him standing at attention at the side of the thrones, dressed in stiff, formal clothing that he couldn’t be more obvious about disliking. Mark has to concentrate on keeping a smile from crawling onto his lips when he notes the discomfort in his posture and the scowl on his face.</p><p>The throne room is crowded with every member of any ranking nobility in the kingdom, as well as the representatives from each of the others. It’s packed, and they’re all here to watch Mark rise into a position of power that no one has held in four years in the Western Kingdom. It’s a terrifying thought, and Mark can’t help but think that he’ll never live up to the standards set before him. </p><p>He has to swallow down that fear when he reaches Donghyuck at the end of the aisle; he won’t let him see him display such a vulnerable emotion when all he’s surely going to do with it is turn it back on Mark in spite later.</p><p>The cape sits heavy on his shoulders, each thread of the intricate embroidery weighing down every step that he takes closer to sealing his fate. He takes comfort in the way the gloves hide his fingers, in the high collar that seals away his skin from prying eyes and judgement.</p><p>A single exchanged glance between the two of them is enough for Mark to know that Donghyuck won’t be offering his arm for Mark to take like he’s supposed to. Instead, Mark pauses in front of Donghyuck for just a second to allow him to join him in stride, before continuing around the thrones, down through the center of the room, and up the grand staircase. They pause just before going out onto the balcony that overlooks the courtyard. </p><p>“Ready, Mark?” Donghyuck murmurs under his breath.</p><p>“Mark?” He’s taken aback by Donghyuck’s audacity to call him by just his name. “Is that how you’re referring to your king?”</p><p>“Apologies, Y<em>our Majesty, </em> but you aren’t king yet.” The formality stings unpleasantly, but Mark doesn’t have the time to frown before he’s walking out onto the balcony in front of thousands of people in the sunny courtyard, and more watching from behind in the shade of the throne room.</p><p>Mark’s been practicing for the coronation since he was fifteen, and knows the oaths and appropriate speeches by heart. His mind is elsewhere when he starts spouting out words that he knows will appeal to his people and that, as much as he holds them as truth, he struggles to put his heart behind in the moment. No one seems to notice, though, all too wrapped up in the pretty phrases that Mark speaks out to the masses with, his powerful voice being carried even further by aid of the moon goddess, who never once leaves his side during the ceremony.</p><p>He kneels down when Taeil prompts him, and he feels a heavy weight placed on his head. His own crown. He hasn’t even seen it yet, and dreads having to face it when he returns to his chambers later and has to take it off with his own hands. He’d wanted to just use his mother’s, but it’s tradition that each new high king or queen gets their own crown to represent their part in the history of the kingdom, and Mark’s no exception to the rule. He never is.</p><p>Mark kneels as a prince, and rises as a king. </p><p>The world seems to weigh on his shoulders just a little bit more.</p><p>He keeps his chin up and his smile wide as he watches his subjects cheer for him. The crown may be resting on his head, but the day is far from over as Mark steels himself and turns to Donghyuck, gesturing for him to step up. </p><p>Jaehyun instructs Donghyuck to recite the Knight’s Oath, and he does. Mark’s mildly impressed that he actually knows it. Mark’s had it memorized for years.</p><p><em> I swear to live by your side and protect you, no matter the cost.<br/></em> <em>I swear to obey your orders to the limits of my capabilities.</em><br/><em>I swear that I will preserve your health and wellbeing, that I will put your life before mine every time.<br/></em><em>I swear to stay loyal to the Western Kingdom, blessed by the moon goddess and ruled by you, until my dying breath.</em></p><p>It’s simple, Mark supposes as he gestures for Donghyuck to kneel in front of him. Jaemin steps forward, letting Mark unsheathe the sword that he holds. It’s beautiful craftsmanship: the hilt embedded with moonstones, the silver gleaming beautifully in the daylight. </p><p>Mark taps the blade lightly on both of Donghyuck’s shoulders, noting how he seems to shake ever-so-slightly with the touch.</p><p>“I now dub thee Sir Lee Donghyuck, Knight of the Western Kingdom,” Mark decrees, resting the sword lengthwise between his two open palms. "I command you to rise and be ready to serve.”</p><p>All apprehension and all traces of nerves seem to leave themselves on the floor when Donghyuck stands, smiling brilliantly at the crowd. He accepts the sword from Mark’s gloved hands, raising it up once before sheathing it at his waist. The crowd cheers him on, and Mark knows that Donghyuck is one of the people, that he’s made invaluable connections and has had the type of life experience that Mark can only dream of.</p><p>He doesn’t quite know what to make of this yet, or what to do about it, but he resolves to think about it later when he has the mental capacity for it. Right now, he finds himself dipping into his last reserves just the make it through the festivities of the day.</p><p>The feast with the nobility is a blur, but he remembers greeting the representatives from each of the other three kingdoms who all came bearing gifts and warm smiles, promising stronger alliances with the new king. It’s difficult to tell how sincere they are because everyone in the four kingdoms’ political realm has gotten very good at being able to mask what they’re truly feeling, Mark included. It’s all part of the game they play, he supposes. Don’t let them know what you’re thinking and you’ll get ahead.</p><p>If only it were ever that simple.</p><p>Mark’s pleasantly startled when he sees Ten from the Northern Kingdom putting aside the longstanding feud his kingdom has with the Southern Kingdom so he and Renjun — the ambassador from the south — can share a drink and chat. It’s a jarring sight, but it’s not unwelcome. He half expects the Eastern Kingdom to not show face at all given their history, but Lord Suh comes bearing letters from his queen that extend a gracious invitation to him and a subset of his court to come visit so they can talk some treaties through.</p><p>Donghyuck and Mark don’t speak for the remainder of the celebration; Donghyuck simply follows Mark around at an easy distance, never letting his eyes stray for too long. It’s not until the end of the night when Donghyuck is escorting Mark back to his chambers that he finally tries to speak with his new companion.</p><p>“Sir Donghyuck, I was wondering—” Mark begins when they reach his chambers, but his attempt at extending an olive branch between them is abruptly set in flames when Donghyuck spins on his heel to face Mark. </p><p>“Look, I don’t want to be your knight. Ryujin was supposed to win that fight, but she let me win so I could follow through with Yuta’s last wish to me,” Donghyuck explains, his voice none too kind.</p><p>“Yuta?” Mark’s completely lost, reeling for some sort of concrete mental hold to latch onto, but Donghyuck’s not giving him much of anything. “You know him?”</p><p>“I trained under him before I trained under Jaehyun when I was just starting out, but he stayed as something of a mentor and an older brother to me for as long as he lived.” Donghyuck shifts the sword at his hips, clearly unused to the new weight of it. “He told me that if anything ever happened to him, that I had to take his place because there’s no one else he’d trust the future king with.”</p><p>Mark opens his mouth to speak, to interject with something to stop whatever tangent Donghyuck’s begun, but he doesn’t get the chance to make a noise.</p><p>“I’m not doing this for you. In fact, I’d rather not have anything to do with you, but I’m keeping a promise to a friend as their dying wish, and you just happen to be the goods in the transaction. Don’t think it’s ever anything more than that.”</p><p>There’s a beat of silence as they stare each other down, and Mark realizes that there’s really nothing he can say to this.</p><p>“Goodnight, Sir Donghyuck,” Mark states before entering his room and closing the door behind him, not sparing another glance to the still-fuming knight that he’s left behind in the corridor.</p><p>Mark may not hold grudges, but it clearly appears that Donghyuck does, so just this once, Mark lets himself succumb to the frustration he feels. He won’t let Donghyuck close to him — not now, not ever, because the only thing that will come from it is pain, if tonight is anything to go by.</p><p>The worst thing of all, is that because Donghyuck cut him off, he never got to request that they take a stop by his mother’s grave before the day is over.</p><p>He flings open the window, calling out desperately for the moon goddess in his head, asking that she visit the grave in his stead, to plant a scattering of moonflowers around her headstone.</p><p>The only solace he finds that night is of the gentle breeze and the steady glow in his fingertips.</p><p>Like many nights before, and many nights to come, Mark doesn’t find sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ahaha this chapter was a lot of exposition, but it was really important to get some Things established,,, i Promise it gets more exciting!!!<br/>[a huge thanks to georgie, ella, tee, mads, and noah for all being amazing and wonderful and supportive friends who helped me a lot through the process of getting through this,,, and as always val, my beta, you are a god and i apologize in advance for all of the Long Ass Chapters i'm going be sending you in the future :) please don't hit me ily]<br/>&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I Dovregubbens Hall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mark doesn’t need to pry to find things out about Donghyuck, though. They seem to just fall into his lap when he’s least expecting it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a small fun classical music tidbit for your day: the title of this chapter is the original norwegian name of one of the movements in edward grieg's peer gynt suite. although the english translation isn't quite literal, it roughly translates to "into the hall of the mountain king." i made a joke bc the northern kingdom is in the mountains. and i named it after... yeah okay i'll go now</p><p>[i've also decided that the northern kingdom is now going to be represented by grieg's peer gynt suite as a whole so there's that too and, as always, thanks to my beta val for putting up with another 10k of my bullshit]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite their last real interaction — it’s a bit of an exaggeration to call that one-sided outburst from Donghyuck a conversation, in Mark’s opinion — his new knight manages to slip into his routine without a hitch, trickling in like a mild summer rain: never a hindrance but always just tangible enough that Mark never forgets of his presence.</p><p>They don’t ever speak to each other. Mark doesn’t have any use for conversation between them while Donghyuck simply seems completely put off by the mere idea of Mark himself. He, of course, doesn’t make it obvious, keeping his dislike of the king in the details: the way he turns his nose whenever Mark’s gaze falls upon him, the way his feet never point at Mark even when his face is, how he crosses his arms over his chest whenever Mark refers to him in even the most minor of manners. It’s childish, and Mark’s sure that Donghyuck <em> knows </em> he’s being childish, but that isn’t going to stop him. It hasn’t ever managed to in the past. </p><p>Even with all of that, it doesn’t mean Donghyuck isn’t doing his job, so Mark really has no room to complain. He never leaves sight of Mark when he’s on duty, always staying within a few paces of him in case something happens. Nothing does. </p><p>In fact, Donghyuck never leaves Mark unless it’s to train, to stay in shape and keep his skills as sharp as ever — that’s only because that’s the only place Mark’s ever seen him when he’s not actively trailing his king. Mark doesn’t know nor does he <em> care </em>to know what he does with his time off. It’s none of his business, and as long as it doesn’t endanger anyone, Mark finds no need to pry.</p><p>He doesn’t <em> need </em> to pry to find things out about Donghyuck, though. They seem to just fall into his lap when he’s least expecting it. The maids giggle about how Donghyuck flirted with them earlier in the main hall, the ladies-in-waiting whisper about who among them Donghyuck is going to bed next, even the pageboys sigh in poorly concealed awe when Donghyuck sends them a wink and a broad smile from across the courtyard. </p><p>Donghyuck’s more of a charmer to the masses than Mark had originally anticipated, and although he doesn’t actively condone his knight’s actions, there’s no reason for him to interfere. </p><p>The charm doesn’t end on the sexual spectrum, though, because Mark can easily recognize that wide-eyed admiration the new trainees in the barracks get when it’s announced that Donghyuck will be running their training sessions for the day. That reverence, at least, is something Mark understands. The things that the lords and ladies of the court gossip about concerning Donghyuck when they think Mark isn’t within earshot? Not so much.</p><p>It doesn’t matter much though, because it doesn’t bother Mark outside of the hushed whispers of the palace staff which he’s long since learned to turn a deaf ear to, knowing it’s never worth listening in. Donghyuck does his job when required and not a step further, and it makes things easier between them.</p><p>He doesn’t question or pry when Mark informs him they’re going on a diplomatic visit to the Northern Kingdom, their strongest and oldest ally. He simply accepts what his king tells him with thick silence and a stiff bow of his head. It’s become the new normal between them, and Mark thinks it’s much better than the constant arguing they’d be doing otherwise.</p><p>“I don’t know who hates who more,” Jaemin comments offhandedly one evening. Mark hums in acknowledgement, shuffling the papers in front of him but not really listening. “You or your knight.”</p><p>At the mention of Donghyuck, Mark’s tenses up, his quill pausing in its place on the parchment. The ink slides off the end of the quill, staining in a wider circle than intended, but he doesn’t pay it any mind, his focus sharpened on Jaemin.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The tension between you two is so palpable it’s ridiculous,” Jaemin says, not looking up at Mark as he shuffles through the parchment in front of him, looking for something. “If you don’t really like him, that’s fine, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it.”</p><p>Mark loathes the way his eyes flick over to the doorway to see if Donghyuck’s standing there, but all he sees is the closed door of his study and can only hope that Jaemin’s comment wasn’t so loud that it managed to travel to where his knight is standing guard outside. </p><p>“You’re just saying that because I treat him differently than I did Yuta,” Mark comments, grimacing as he takes his quill off the parchment, finally noticing the small puddle of ink across his letter to Lord Choi in response to his request for financial assistance so he can expand his farmlands. </p><p>“Maybe.” Jaemin shrugs, finally glancing up to gauge Mark’s reaction. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t partial to him.”</p><p>“Does it matter?” Mark raises an eyebrow, turning his full attention back to the letter that he now has to rewrite due to his carelessness. With a sigh, he pulls out a fresh piece of parchment and begins anew, waiting another moment before continuing to speak. “He’s not Yuta, and I realize that, therefore I’m not treating him like he is.”</p><p>Jaemin hums contemplatively, and Mark can almost hear his thoughts before he speaks them aloud. </p><p>“I’m just saying that you should give him a chance,” Jaemin muses, his quill tapping quietly on the edge of the ink bottle. “The other trainees in the barracks are partial to him, and as far as I’ve heard, there’s not a single person who dislikes him… other than you.”</p><p>“I never said I disliked him.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”</p><p>Mark looks up at him over the piles of parchment on his desk, meeting Jaemin’s gaze to find him with a raised eyebrow and the barest hint of a smile. He despises how Jaemin’s learned to read him so well, but he doesn’t let it show, instead narrowing his eyes just barely to get him to change the subject if he’s going to insist upon talking so much.</p><p>“Fine, fine,” Jaemin says, laughter in his voice, more entertained by Mark’s attitude than intimidated by it. “Is everything in order for your departure tomorrow, then?”</p><p>“This is the last thing I need to do.” Mark signs the bottom of his letter to Lord Choi with a flourish. “Are you going to be alright while I’m gone?”</p><p>“It’s just a couple of weeks, Mark.” Jaemin takes the letter from Mark’s outstretched hand and folds it neatly. “I think we’ll survive. I’m more worried about <em> you.” </em> </p><p>“Jaemin,” Mark warns, shooting him a glance. </p><p>“I’m serious. I don’t think you should be going.” He purses his lips as he walks over to the hearth on the other side of the room, taking a dab of hot wax from the small kettle hanging above the dancing flame to seal the letter.</p><p>“We’ve been over this. I’m going to the Northern Kingdom, and that’s final.” Mark stands as Jaemin returns to the desk. “For one, it’s customary that the new ruler visits the other kingdoms, and for another, they’re our closest allies between the other three. This isn’t something we can afford to forsake.” Mark doesn’t look at Jaemin as he speaks, instead focusing on taking off the chain with the royal ring from around his neck to press it into the hot wax on the letter. The royal seal stares back up at him when he takes the ring away.</p><p>“I’m not asking you to forsake it,” Jaemin reasons. “You can send someone in your stead, send <em> me </em> if you’d like, or postpone it for a month or two so this all has a chance to die down and it’s safer for you. Doyoung will understand.”</p><p>“No.” Mark doesn’t leave room for argument as he drapes the chain around his neck and tucks it under the high collar of his shirt so it’s hidden. “It has to be me, and if we delay, the problem could only grow until there’s really no chance of me being able to go. I need to do this now for the sake of our alliance. Now stop your fretting, Jaem. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I’m still going to be worried.”</p><p>“Worried about what? My wellbeing?” Mark very nearly scoffs. “Sir Donghyuck has made arrangements that will ensure my safety while flaunting his military prowess a little more than what anyone deemed necessary.”</p><p>“He’s Jaehyun’s best strategist, you know this,” Jaemin retorts. “His plan is damn near foolproof, and despite your continued dislike of him, you’re lucky to have him with you. The only reason I’m letting you off easy is because I know you have him and ten other highly skilled guards with you on the journey. You’ll have <em> Ryujin </em> with you for goddess’s sake!”</p><p>“I’d like him more if he stopped sleeping around with the court,” Mark grumbles. Jaemin barks out a sharp laugh at that.</p><p>“So <em> that’s </em> why you don’t like him? Because he gets into bed with the nobility on his days off?” Jaemin cries. “What makes his actions any different from mine? Wait, actually, don’t answer that. I know exactly what you’re going to say and I’m tired of having this argument with you.”</p><p>“Very well.” Mark takes a deep breath, not realizing his hands were clenched until now. He gently flexes his gloved fingers at his sides, tilting his head slightly as he meets Jaemin’s gaze. “I don’t enjoy these arguments with you, I hope you know.”</p><p>“Neither do I… It’s just that…” Jaemin sighs, slumping his shoulders. “I’m worried about you. You’re my best friend and you’ve been through so much… if something were to happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do. You don’t have an heir, so if— if something happens, then the entire kingdom is up for grabs, and that’s not—”</p><p>“You’re spiraling, Jaem,” Mark says softly, walking around the desk to place his hands on Jaemin’s shoulders. Jaemin looks down, unable to make eye contact. “I’m going to be perfectly fine on the journey. Ryujin, Sir Donghyuck and the others will make sure of it. And besides… I’ve left the kingdom to you once you’re of age. It’s the first thing I passed in court last week after the coronation, but I don’t think you were paying attention.” He chuckles, and the sound that so seldom comes from Mark makes Jaemin look up, eyes wide.</p><p>“I thought Taeil—”</p><p>“Taeil agreed with me that you’re to be my honorary next of kin. He wants it to be you.” Mark smiles at the way Jaemin’s eyes shine, the firelight from the hearth across the room making him glow with a type of warmth Mark’s not used to. “But right now, I can’t let something like the threat of bandits and rogues on the path to the Northern Kingdom keep me away from my duties as king. I will not cower in fear behind my palace walls when my kingdom both expects and needs more of me, especially in a time like this. I hope you understand.”</p><p>“I understand, I just can’t lose you too,” Jaemin whispers, and Mark understands. While Mark may have lost his real family, Jaemin lost an honorary brother and uncle when Taeyong left and the king passed away. It’s a sore subject for them both, and Mark often forgets just how close young Jaemin was with both of them. </p><p>Jaemin looks like he wants to say more, opening and closing his mouth a few times before shrinking into himself a bit, giving up. He’s never been the best with words — Mark takes the cake in that category by a long shot — so he makes up for it a lot of the time by conveying what he wants to say with gestures. </p><p>Mark’s known him for long enough — has been familiar with his body language for long enough — that he already knows what Jaemin is trying to say. He’s aware of every noiseless declaration of affection exuding from his wide eyes and curled fists, but Jaemin still needs to express it in some way, so when he leans down just a bit, Mark can only oblige his silent request with a smile, letting their lips meet in the middle.</p><p>It’s not something they do often, and it’s definitely not something that they ever talk about, but it helps Jaemin ground himself when he gets a little too lost in his head. When they were young, Jaemin often sought out Mark for kisses under the pretense of wanting practice. They both knew that was a lie and he just needed an outlet for the overwhelming amount of love he held inside of his tiny little heart, but Mark was always more than willing to help. </p><p>He still is willing to help, especially now that they’ve both grown into their bodies, and everything just slides into place with a little more ease. Jaemin sneaks a hand around Mark’s back underneath his cape to hold him steady, the other one thumbing little circles over the fabric of his shirt at his waist. His lips are soft against Mark’s — they always have been — and Mark almost lets out a little noise from the back of his throat when Jaemin tilts his head, nose brushing Mark’s, so they slot together at a more satisfying angle.</p><p>Jaemin seems to catch this, letting out a puff of air out of his nose in the form of a laugh, his lips curving into a smile against Mark’s. He nips once at Mark’s bottom lip, teasing, but Mark makes a noise of protest and pulls back in retaliation, Jaemin chasing his mouth until he captures it again. Mark stumbles back with a stifled laugh, but Jaemin’s grip keeps him upright so he can respond with equal fervor. Jaemin still tastes of the decadent vanilla creme that was served with the fruit after dinner, and Mark hums, unable to get enough of it. </p><p>Jaemin pulls Mark a little closer at that, their chests flush together and Mark has to reach up to Jaemin’s jaw and tilt it back down so the kiss is more comfortable. He can feel the hem of his shirt slowly being pulled out of its neat tuck into his trousers as Jaemin continues to draw little circles on his hip, coaxing Mark to relax a little more. It works for a moment until Mark remembers himself and pulls back reluctantly, watching Jaemin’s eyes flutter open.</p><p>“Alright, you’re never going to sleep if we don’t stop now,” Mark says, pressing his lips to the angle of Jaemin’s jaw before drawing back completely.</p><p>“What if I don’t want to sleep?” Jaemin replies with a wink that’s so blatantly flirtatious it makes Mark wrinkle his nose in distaste, playfully scandalized before regaining a touch more gravitas.</p><p>“You need rest, Jaem.” Mark strokes his thumb over Jaemin’s cheek, wishing nothing more but to not have the glove between them. “You have a kingdom to run in the morning, remember?”</p><p>“I’ll see you off in the morning,” he says, pressing one last kiss to Mark’s forehead before leaving the room. All of the sealed envelopes from the evening’s work are clutched in his grasp to hand off to a page boy before he retires to his room.</p><p>Mark has to take a moment to collect himself before he leaves. With a delicate touch, he straightens the crown on his head and neatly tucks his shirt back into the waist of his trousers where Jaemin’s thumb had rucked it up. He pulls his cape a bit tighter around his shoulders, unbothered of the way the clasp digs a little bit into the base of his throat, only softened by the collar of his shirt. His body feels so much colder already now that the warmth of Jaemin’s hands has disappeared.</p><p>He exits the room, sparing only a glance at Donghyuck, who’s still standing at attention outside the room, before walking off down the corridor. He knows that Donghyuck will be right behind him, flanking his long strides just to his right like always. He doesn’t have to turn around to verify it.</p><p>As always, no words are exchanged between them when Mark gets to his chambers, just the usual nod from Donghyuck as Mark slips inside and closes the door. The first thing Mark does once he’s alone is sigh, long and deep, as he takes off his crown. He places it on his small bedside table, and discards his gloves immediately after.</p><p>It’s a pleasant surprise to find that his fingers aren’t glowing, and his heart swells a bit when he realizes that’s always the product of Jaemin’s affection. </p><p>Mark feels a gentle breeze on his palms, and he sees that his balcony doors are still open, letting in the pleasant summer nighttime breeze that ripples the light curtains pulled back just to the sides of the open doors. </p><p>The moon is out in full tonight, and as Mark takes longer to look at it, the more the feeling in his chest grows that the upcoming journey will be a long one, in more ways than one.<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p>
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</p><p>The sun has barely begun to graze the horizon when Mark steps into the front courtyard. The air bites a little more harshly at his skin than it has the past few mornings, but it’s a change Mark both welcomes and is prepared for. The trip up north will only take a few days, but the temperature will drop below what even the coldest nights of autumn in the Western Kingdom bring in. Although Mark assured Jaemin and Taeil that two coats would be plenty for the one week trip, he’s entirely sure that there are at least four amongst the numerous chests that are packed up in the carriage.</p><p>Only a small entourage is there to see Mark off this morning, wanting to keep the knowledge of the king’s passing through more dangerous territory as secretive as possible lest the rogues somehow catch wind of it. </p><p>Jaemin is there, as expected, standing tall and holding his own cloak tightly around himself to protect from the nip of the wind. Taeil stands beside him, comforting hand on his shoulder. Out here, it's not appropriate to hug either of them goodbye, which is why Mark had to do it last night, giving Taeil a farewell just after dinner together and Jaemin after they finished up the last of Mark's domestic duties much later that night.</p><p>Jaehyun stands by the carriage, conversing quietly with Donghyuck and the other guards, stalling them for just a moment so Mark can spend just a few more moments with Jaemin and Taeil.</p><p>"Tell King Doyoung and Queen Irene that we send our regards, and that we dearly wish we could've been able to make the trip," Taeil says softly, voice nearly lost over the sound of the wind for just a moment. Mark nods, turning to Jaemin, whose lips are bitten raw from chewing on them — a nervous tick of his that Mark has tried countless times to get him to drop to no avail.</p><p>"Send them my love as well," he starts softly before he looks up and meets Mark's eye. His gaze holds a mischievous twinkle that Mark isn't really sure what to make of for a moment. "And give Prince Jeno a kiss for me as well, would you?"</p><p>If Mark could whack him for that right now, he would. He can't however, so he leaves it up to Taeil to give his shoulder a particularly harsh squeeze.</p><p>"Please don't burn down my kingdom while I'm gone," Mark tells them, only half serious. "I'd like to come back to the entire Western Kingdom still being intact, if you'd be so kind."</p><p>"No promises," Jaemin replies easily, a smile growing on his face. His chapped lips crack with the strain of it. "As long as you come back alive, yeah?"</p><p>Before Mark can give his own response, the sound of his title being called makes him stop.</p><p>"Your Highness, we need to be going." It's Donghyuck. Of course it is. "It's best we leave before the sun reaches the horizon if we want to cover as much ground as we can in daylight."</p><p>Much too soon for his taste, Mark says his last goodbyes to Jaemin, Taeil, and Jaehyun as he steps into the carriage that's awaiting him. He's grown an understandable distaste for carriages, and if the journey weren't so long, he'd have pushed harder for making it on horseback. He doesn't expect Donghyuck to follow him, though, and has to seal his lips together tightly to keep himself from actively protesting when he ducks through the door behind him.</p><p>Donghyuck, being ever-astute as he is, notices Mark's barely-raised eyebrow, the way he must be eyeing him with surprise instead of the usual blank formality, because he snorts as he closes the door behind him, taking up residence of the seat across from Mark.</p><p>"I don't want to be in here as much as I'm sure <em> you </em> don't want me to be in here, but it's for your safety."</p><p>"How so? Why does it make a difference if you're in here or out on horseback next to the carriage?" Mark crosses one leg over the other, folding his gloved hands neatly in his lap. He cocks his head just slightly to the side, as if looking at Donghyuck's same annoyed expression from a different angle will put more rationality behind it somehow. It doesn't, and Mark is quietly unsurprised.</p><p>"As you know, the reports of rogues in the roads north of here have only grown over the past several weeks, and the closer in proximity I am to you, the less risk we run of something happening."</p><p>"What would happen that would make a difference?" Mark asks, straightening his neck, meeting his narrowed gaze straight on.</p><p>"The carriage could get hijacked, someone could shoot something from afar, if something goes awry in the formation and an intruder makes it inside, then I'm unable to protect you, and I'd fail at my one duty," Donghyuck retorts, slowly losing the usual forced formality he holds with Mark, exchanging it in favor of something a with more venom. "And I'm not terribly inclined to have you dying on my watch, despite what you may think."</p><p>"I don't think that you want me to die, Sir Donghyuck." Mark has to hold back the smile in his words when the carriage lurches to a start and Donghyuck nearly falls out of his seat with the motion. "I'm just surprised that you're okay with spending so much time with me voluntarily."</p><p>"It was Commander Jung's idea, not mine," Donghyuck says, his armor clinking together as he shifts on the seat into a more comfortable position. Mark actually does smile at this, but it holds no warmth.</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>It's only once they're a few hours into the ride that Mark realizes that's the first real conversation he's ever held with Donghyuck. If he weren't so full of himself and so intent on hating every bit of Mark's very being, Mark is relatively sure he might make decent company to pass the time on the ride.</p><p>As it is, though, he's content with where his nose is buried in a book, leaving Donghyuck to entertain himself. He can count the trees they pass through the western forests and out into the northwestern plains, barren of anything higher than the wildgrass fields for as far as the eye can see ahead. It's a very good thing the trip is only a few days otherwise Mark would've run out of reading material on the first day and be left in the same position as Donghyuck: trying not to doze off as the seemingly same countryside runs by the window again and again.</p><p>The nights are as quiet as the days are boring. They pitch tents in the field just off the side of the road, unlatching and unsaddling the horses to let them rest as the rest of the guards pitch tents and start a fire.</p><p>Mark is the only one who gets his own tent, the other guards left to share what remains between the shifts they take to keep watch. Sleep doesn't find him any easier there on an array of pillows in the middle of a field than it does back in his bed in the palace, but it does come before the sun rises, and Mark's thankful enough for that.</p><p>Unfortunately, the second day brings him a shortage of reading material, and by high noon, he's run out. Left with nothing much else to do, he sets the book on old history aside, taking off his spectacles to rub the bridge of his nose. His eyes fall upon the seat across from him, trailing across its cushioned ledge slowly until they fall upon the hilt of Donghyuck's sword. He'd taken it off his hip to rest it across his lap for comfort's sake, and Mark takes the chance to let his eyes trace the intricate designs carved into the hilt, swirling around the moonstones already embedded there.</p><p>"Is there something I can do for you, Your Highness?" There's something just edging over the line of snide as Donghyuck speaks, but Mark doesn't take the bait.</p><p>"How have you been keeping yourself entertained?" Mark asks, genuinely curious. It's a contrast to how he was yesterday, but Donghyuck's clearly not going to be the one to extend a hand of civility to begin anything, so Mark might as well give it a shot.</p><p>"Counting the trees, Your Highness," Donghyuck deadpans, and Mark's eyes flick up to see that Donghyuck's still facing out the window where there are absolutely no trees in sight.</p><p>"Are you taking a tone with me, my knight?" Mark asks coolly.</p><p>Donghyuck raises his hands in defense, but doesn't lose his stiff posture or turn his head to meet Mark's eye.</p><p>"Wouldn't dream of it, Your Majesty."</p><p>Somehow, a frown winds its way onto Mark's lips, twisting them into a downward curve before he can stop himself.</p><p>"I loathe that you refer to me as such," he states, and is promptly surprised with himself that he did. He doesn't tend to divulge any unnecessary information to anyone, let alone to Donghyuck.</p><p>"Well what else would His Majesty like me to call him, then?" Donghyuck snorts in response, as indignant as ever.</p><p>"I just..." Mark sighs, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in his trousers. "I've always had a distaste for titles like 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Highness.' There's something so haughty about them that sets me the wrong way. Even 'Your Grace,' which is what my father went by, seems so high and mighty and a bit out of my league still."</p><p>"So when you feel <em> worthy </em> of 'Your Grace,' you'll use it?" Donghyuck raises an eyebrow to his reflection in the window.</p><p>"No." Mark shakes his head quickly. "To me, His Highness will always be my father, and it feels wrong that I should inherit a title that I can't live up to, so to speak."</p><p>"Don't sell yourself so short," Donghyuck replies simply, his gaze outside at the horizon unwavering. "You're not a disappointment."</p><p>"There's a lot of grey area between being a disappointment and a great king, and I'm just concerned that I fall closer to the former end of things than the latter." Mark wonders idly if Donghyuck can feel Mark's gaze burning into the side of his head. Donghyuck opens his mouth as if to say something, but must think wiser of it and seals his lips shut. Mark's eyebrows knit together at the sight. "If you wish to say something, then speak your mind. Contrary to what you might think, I'm interested in your viewpoint on things because it offers something different than my own."</p><p>"It could get me into trouble, so I'll refrain." He shakes his head in response, as if trying to rid the thought from his head with a physical motion.</p><p>"Who would you get into trouble with?" Mark wants to scoff, but holds back on the grounds that it will give Donghyuck too much satisfaction to see him drop his formal exterior for even a moment. "I'm not going to discharge you for following my own orders. No one else can hear us."</p><p>"I..." Donghyuck takes a deep breath, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, pushing it back where the bumping of the carriage ride had knocked it down on his forehead. "I just can't, alright? It's not my place to say, Your Majesty."</p><p>It's clear he's deliberately using the title to rile Mark up, to get him to change the subject or drop it completely, but it's also clear that pushing further on the subject will do him no good, so Mark gives him a reprieve in the form of a thinly veiled insult.</p><p>"It's nice to know that propriety can be taught, even to you." Mark sits back. "It's quite peculiar to hear all of those formalities come from your mouth after all the names you called me in our youth."</p><p>Donghyuck's thick skin to words holds solid, not a leak to be found when his lips curve up into a smile.</p><p>"I will not repeat any of them now," he comments. "And the propriety was learned along the way, never taught."</p><p>"Because Commander Jung teaches so many proper mannerisms in training, of course." For a fraction of a second, Mark is dangerously close to letting a laugh spill.</p><p>"It wasn't Jaehyun," is all Donghyuck has to say for any lightheartedness to be promptly sucked out of the atmosphere, leaving a vacant space of nothing but nameless, heavy emotions in its place. Donghyuck's face closes off after he says it, realizing who he's referring to only now as all traces of a smile disappear from his face.</p><p>Mark, with his personal experiences, knows that an apology here is the worst thing that he could do. He just nods quietly, understanding, and that’s it. They sit there in silence, Mark letting old memories of Yuta wash over him, and Donghyuck’s eyes never leaving the window even when they go a bit glassy. The conversation never picks up again after that, both of them too wary of each other to speak.</p><p>The stop that night is colder: a telltale sign of them approaching the borders of the Northern Kingdom at long last. Mark can’t sleep yet again, watching his breath fog up into wisps of shapes before disappearing, the tall grass brushing against the stiff canvas of his tent the only sound to keep him company.</p><p>He can barely see the outline of the moon through the top of the tent, but it calls to him anyway, tugging on his fingers as if asking him to come out and play. He stands up quietly from the cushions that serve as his mattress, pulling on a cloak from where he’d lain it out on the floor of the tent. It’s painfully easy to slip outside unnoticed, frost not yet adorning the grass that swishes around his legs which makes it much quieter than expected. The edges of the firelight scrape at his calves as he rounds the tent carefully, taking care so the guards that still sit up and awake circling the fire aren’t alerted.</p><p>Objectively, he knows this is irresponsible. He can’t just disappear from where the people who are supposed to be protecting him think him to be without so much as a parting word.</p><p>Subjectively, Mark couldn’t care any less right now. He can’t disregard the moon’s call, and it’s simply more efficient to just come out here on his own to sit in peace rather than to alert everyone’s attention.</p><p>He lies down in the grass just behind his tent, lacing his fingers behind his head as he looks up at the stars that wink down at him kindly, their soft light making him more nostalgic than he cares to admit.</p><p>Mark remembers being young, sneaking outside of the palace at night to sit down in the gardens, Taeyong lying next to him. There, Taeyong would teach him all about the constellations — pointing out which star is which, which other stars they go with to create patterns. He’d explained that it’s important for Mark to know each and every single one of them, to become familiar with their paths and tendencies. Understandably confused, Mark had asked why Taeyong was so intent upon him learning all of this.</p><p>Taeyong had simply replied that if Mark is the moon, then the stars are his loyal subjects, and he should get to know them well if he wants to be a good king. At the time, Mark had refuted this with a childish giggle, reminding Taeyong petulantly that <em> he’s </em> not going to be the king because <em> Taeyong </em> is, and that Taeyong would be the moon. He remembers that Taeyong hadn’t responded to that; he’d just laughed and kissed the top of his head before ushering him back inside and into bed before they were caught.</p><p>Mark hasn’t thought about it a lot, but there were obvious signs that Taeyong had never really planned on being king. Now that he’s older, as much as he doesn’t agree with how he handled it, he sees where Taeyong was coming from. If he were to assume the position of high king, it would forever be contested that Mark should be the king due to his powers, despite what either of them said. Taeyong couldn’t secede his position as Crown Prince without having it up for debate in the royal court for weeks, and even if he’d been successful, he’d have been stripped of all royal titles and become a social pariah. Mark can only hope that Taeyong had planned for their father to live much longer, and that he didn’t intend to set Mark up to be king as a mere fourteen-year-old boy.</p><p>As much it would be easy to blame it all on Taeyong, to talk badly of him now that he’s gone with no sign of returning, Mark can’t. He can’t bring himself to speak ill of the brother whom he loved more than anything else in the world, who was his sole confidant until Jaemin came bursting into his life, who cared about him more than he cared about himself some days. Anyone who knew Taeyong would attest that he was impossible to dislike, always ready with a helping hand or a few kind words for everyone he came across. He saw the good in the world when it got impossibly dark, and Mark wishes that he could be more like him.</p><p>With thoughts of a long-lost brother on his mind, Mark counts the stars, listing them off by name and constellation in his head.</p><p>Mark doesn’t even realize that he’s fallen asleep outside there in the grass until the next time he opens his eyes and dawn is breaking. The early morning golden light stretches across his face, welcoming him into the new day as he blinks hard, stretching his arms above his head and letting his gloved fingers brush against the grass. The morning still holds a chill to it, but his exhales don’t linger in the air visibly anymore.</p><p>His muscles ache from the position he slept in, the hard ground against his spine not something he’s used to, but it’s not much worse than it would’ve been if he’d just stayed in the tent. He’s relaxed, though, and he got more sleep the past night than he has in the previous four combined. The calm morning is promptly shattered by the sound of a shout.</p><p>“Where’s the king?”</p><p>Mark lets his head thump back against the ground for a moment. He knew this was a bad idea and did it anyway, assuming he’d just slip back inside the tent before anyone came to rouse him, but of course him actually getting sleep for once holds a consequence.</p><p>Absolute chaos ensues the shout. The sound of more panicked calls of his title, hurried footsteps, and frantic movements reach Mark’s not-quite-awake-yet ears, and he heaves a sigh as he sits himself upright.</p><p>He brushes the dirt off of his clothes as best he can, which isn’t terribly effective, and stands up. His head pokes up just above the peak of his tent.</p><p>“I’m right here, there’s no need to fret,” Mark says calmly. </p><p>He can barely blink before Donghyuck is there in front of him, checking him over for his nonexistent wounds and injuries, instead only finding remnants of dirt on the back of his cloak and a piece of yellowed grass in his hair. Mark simply stands there, letting Donghyuck’s fretting run its course. Donghyuck takes a deep breath at last, settling his palms gently on Mark’s shoulders for an extended moment, his head bowed as he collects himself.</p><p>“Don’t ever do that again,” he says finally, straightening back up and taking his hands away — despite the clothing, it’s still not appropriate for someone to touch a royal unless completely necessary. </p><p>“Are you trying to give me an order, my knight?” Mark absently brushes at the places where Donghyuck’s hands had just been. He gets the reaction out of the name he’d hoped: stiffened shoulders, clenched jaw. If Donghyuck is going to be so insistent upon calling him by a title he doesn’t like, then it’s only fair that he does just the same. Donghyuck doesn’t like the idea of being contained or told what to do, as expressed by his penchant for freedom as a child, regardless of the cost.</p><p>“No, I’m trying to keep you alive, you pretentious, ungrateful—” Donghyuck stops, catching himself before he can dig himself into a deeper hole. Mark simply raises an eyebrow, but Donghyuck won’t meet his gaze now. “We’ll be leaving soon, Your Majesty. Please get yourself suitable. We’ll be arriving in the Northern Kingdom by late afternoon, by the looks of it.”</p><p>Donghyuck steps aside to let Mark pass, who moves without hesitation or another bit of acknowledgement in his knight’s direction.</p><p>For being royalty, Mark tends to pack on the lighter side of things, especially in comparison to how he’s seen Jaemin and Taeil pack for weekend excursions. Mark has all of his things neatly loaded back into the carriage before most of the other guards themselves are ready. Ryujin offers him a helping hand with a smile, and as she easily picks up his heaviest trunk without losing the expression, Mark decides he likes her already despite never having exchanged more than a few words in passing.</p><p>The mountains are the first thing in sight that tells Mark they’re getting close, slowly rising above the flat horizon of the plains. They’re as beautiful as he remembers, almost purple where the stone peeks out from underneath the layers of glimmering snow. It’s still late summer, but the mountains have never lost their white caps for as long as any history book can recount. Within a few hours, the Northern Kingdom itself makes its first appearance with the turrets of the magnificent castle that sits nestled between the two highest mountains. </p><p>A memory jogs itself into Mark’s mind then, of him accompanying his father on trips up here when he was younger, and he marveled at the glory of the castle when snow piled high around the carriage wheels. It’s his home away from home, and Mark hadn’t realized how much he missed it.</p><p>As they continue to get closer, the fjords and the stone houses of the outlying towns begin to make their own appearances, adding to the beauty of the Northern Kingdom as a whole. Everything looks cool and beautiful, all put-together and untouchable, not unlike how the residents of the castle themselves seem at first.</p><p>The castle courtyard isn’t deserted when they arrive, but it’s rather barren and Mark’s surprised for a moment until he sees two figures standing at the top of the stairs that lead from the courtyard to the main hall.</p><p>“Mark!” Prince Jeno’s already calling his name before he can fully step out of the carriage. Mark nearly doesn’t recognize the young man that comes barrelling into his arms with smiles in his eyes to match the splitting grin on his face. </p><p>“It’s good to see you too, Jeno.” Mark smiles where his face is tucked into Jeno’s shoulder, not minding how his crown has been knocked askew. It’s not his usual crown that he’d wear around his own palace, instead trading it in for something significantly more subdued. It’s a sign of respect to the royalty of the kingdom he’s visiting, and he doesn’t mind the delicate silver circlet in the slightest. It weighs a fraction of what he’s used to, and he feels lighter with it — more free.</p><p>What he’s always loved so much about the other kingdoms is the way they’re so free in showing their affection, regardless of status. It’s something the Western Kingdom is somewhat of an outlier for, and Mark, even after all these years, still can’t decide whether it’s a positive or negative attribute. Those thoughts don’t matter right now because he focuses all his energy into clinging tighter to Jeno, rocking back and forth.</p><p>“Jeno, come on. Share, would you?” A sharp voice pipes up from behind Jeno, and Mark opens his eyes to see Ten standing there, all sharp angles and white hair and unbidden humor simmering behind his dark eyes. It’s nice to know some things don’t change with time. “I want a turn with Mark, too.”</p><p>At that, Jeno reluctantly steps back, and Mark gets a good look at him. He was a cute kid, all squishy cheeks and shy smiles, but he’s grown up. He’s a sort of devastatingly gorgeous now that makes Mark take an extra moment to take it all in: his neatly styled dark hair, the sharp jaw, the fact that <em> he’s taller than Mark now. </em> It’s a lot to absorb, but Ten doesn’t give him the chance to before he’s scooped up in Ten’s own embrace.</p><p>“Hello, Ten,” Mark laughs as the man, who’s a head shorter than him now, picks him up and spins him around with delight. </p><p>“Goddess, Mark, you’ve grown up,” Ten chuckles. “You’re much heavier now.”</p><p>“That’s just the cape, I’m sure. Don’t worry, he’s still tiny,” Jeno snorts and Mark throws him a playful glare as Ten sets him down and fixes his circlet for him. “Besides, what do you mean he’s grown up? You saw him last month at the coronation while I had to stay back!”</p><p>“I didn’t exactly get to hug him while I was there,” Ten retorts, smoothing down Mark’s hair affectionately before stepping back. Mark feels loved yet suffocated, and if that doesn’t feel like home, he doesn’t know what would.</p><p>“Let’s get inside,” Jeno suggests, gesturing to the castle. “My parents are excited to see you.”</p><p>“Stop calling Doyoung your father, Jeno,” Ten scolds. “Irene may find it amusing but you’re pushing your limits with your brother every time you do that.”</p><p>Mark laughs at that, happy to see that they’re all getting along well still. Jeno, despite being over ten years younger than King Doyoung, continually teases his brother about just about every subject he can get away with — that includes the joke that Doyoung is old enough to be Jeno’s father, which he’s <em> not, </em> but Doyoung’s let him get away with it for so long Mark doubts it’ll change any time soon.</p><p>“We should go before Jeno runs his mouth enough to actually get in trouble one of these days,” Mark adds on, making a move up the stairs to the main doors that are still ajar just the slightest.</p><p>“Hey!” Jeno protests, indignant, but Ten waves a hand at him vaguely to quiet him down.</p><p>“I’ll get your effects inside and your guards settled first, then I’ll join you in the throne room,” Ten dismisses with a nod of his head. “Try not to get lost, Jeno.”</p><p>Jeno smiles brightly, and Mark can tell he’s barely holding himself back from spitting some sugar-coated venom right back at him. Instead of letting Ten get to him, he turns on his heel and starts up the stairs again, leaving Mark to follow his strides through the main doors of the castle that lead to the grand hall. The warmth of the lit chandeliers that hang from the ceiling spreads to every corner of the room, beating back the chill of the shadows that looms in the crevices from reaching Mark’s feet as he enters.</p><p>Mark quickly discovers where everyone he’d been expecting in the courtyard has gone: here in the main hall, bustling about duties in such a lively manner it makes Mark want to join in along with them for a moment.</p><p>“What’s all this for?” Mark has to raise his voice just a touch over the commotion. Jeno throws him a look.</p><p>“It’s customary to throw any royal visitors a celebration, you know this.” He pauses his words after that, but keeps his pace steady. Mark can almost hear him thinking in that moment of quiet between them. “I forget that you haven’t been here in so long. Forgive my tone.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to forgive, Jeno.” Mark gazes around the corridors as they pass out of the grand hall, rounding vaguely familiar corners until Mark finally realizes where they’re heading. “It’s a time of adjustment for us all.”</p><p>“I—” Jeno turns his head to Mark, beginning a response, but he’s cut off by a thunderous cry of his name from the next corridor.</p><p><em> “Your Majesty Prince Lee Jeno!” </em> It’s shrill, and it cuts through the air with deadly precision. Mark glances over to see Jeno failing to mask a grimace, and Mark puts a hand up to his mouth to hide the smile that tugs at his lips. It’s not for propriety’s sake for once — it’s for Jeno’s quickly diminishing pride.</p><p>“Lord Huang, I see you’ve caught up,” Jeno greets, spinning around as he plasters a smile on his face. </p><p>“Oh, don’t play coy with me, young prince,” Lord Huang calls back, and Mark turns around in surprise because he recognizes the voice. A young man storms their way down the hall, dressed in the traditional forest green tunic of the Southern Kingdom. He’s short — at least by Northern Kingdom standards — but the purpose in his stride and the fire in his pinched expression tells Mark not to underestimate him due to stature. </p><p>To say Mark’s surprised when he sets his sights on Sir Huang Renjun of the Southern Kingdom would be a grand understatement. Sure, Renjun and Ten had gotten along fine at his coronation, but that’s the most contact the kingdoms have had with each other in years. As far as Mark still knows, letters still aren’t allowed to be directly sent between them — they have to go through either the Western or Eastern Kingdoms to be vetted before being shipped off as desired.</p><p>“Who are you calling young?” Jeno huffs back, petulant. “You’re barely a month older than me!”</p><p>“I’m calling <em> you </em> young because you’re—” Renjun reaches them in a barely contained fit of rage, proceeding to yank Jeno down into a headlock— “an insufferable <em> child, </em> and I’m telling Doyoung about that stunt you pulled in the courtyard with Mina and Yeeun this morning, too.”</p><p>Mark watches the scene unfold before him in mild amusement. It’s clear Jeno and Renjun are close in a way Mark hasn’t known before — in fact, he hadn’t even realized they’d known each other at all — but Jeno’s laughter and the sparkle of humor in Renjun’s eye lets Mark know that they’re okay. When Renjun’s expression has downgraded from royally pissed to only mildly disgruntled, Jeno taps his arm.</p><p>“Alright, alright, Injun, mercy,” Jeno coughs, and is released with a short, annoyed exhale.</p><p>It’s only now that Renjun seems to register the fact that they’re in the presence of others because his eyes find Donghyuck first, then his jaw drops and he whirls around to see Mark. His eyes widen and he snaps his mouth shut, stooping into a low bow. </p><p>“King Mark, I apologize on the behalf of this <em> brat—” </em> Renjun nudges Jeno harshly with the point of his boot— “for appearing so unprofessional in your presence. I’m sure he’ll find a way to make it up to you, right Jeno?”</p><p>“You started it,” Jeno grumbles, but has the decency to look appropriately guilty when Renjun sends him a pointed glare. “I’m sorry, Mark.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Mark replies to him easily, then lets his gaze fall back onto Renjun. “I can say with full confidence that you’re one of the last people I expected to see here, although I’m not disappointed.”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Renjun begins, straightening the hem of his tunic. “It’s complicated right now, and everything’s still a bit fragile, but both kingdoms are interested in rebuilding relations. I’m here to discuss the possible reopening of the trade routes through the Bronze City, but that will have to be passed by all four of the courts in order—”</p><p>“You’re going on one of your political rants again, Injun,” Jeno sighs. “I can only stand so much of it from Doyoung at meals, I don’t need it from you too.”</p><p>“That’s going to be your job someday, you know,” Renjun reminds him, his voice suddenly a lot softer. He must understand that it’s a touchy subject with him.</p><p>“Not if I can help it.” Jeno shrugs off the topic, unbothered as he faces Mark with a grin. “Come on, now, Doyoung and Irene have both been dying to see you.”</p><p>Jeno continues on ahead, leaving the other three to follow in step behind him. He’s a lot more affected that Renjun brought up his future reign than he’d like to let on, but Mark will talk to him about it later.</p><p>“Lord?” Mark leans over to Renjun, murmuring. “Does he not know?”</p><p>“I never told him. He just assumed, and I never corrected him,” Renjun replies quietly. “Nor will I ever, if I can help it.”</p><p>“Don’t keep secrets from him. I know you’re hiding a lot— don’t give me that look, Sir Huang, you do the same as me— but Jeno puts a lot of trust in you clearly, especially to have you up here. It might do you well to do the same.”</p><p>“I don’t know, Mark.” Renjun’s voice shakes with uncertainty. “I really don’t know.”</p><p>“Just a piece of advice.” Mark straightens up, glancing over at him. “Because if you hurt him, you will have hell to pay from both me and Jaemin.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”</p><p>Mark wants to ask him more, about what he’s holding back, about <em> why </em> he’s holding it back, but they reach the doors to the throne room, and he has no time to get another word out before Jeno’s flinging them open and striding right in to announce their presence.</p><p>“We’ll talk more later,” Renjun whispers before he disappears from Mark’s side and is quickly replaced by Jeno, tugging him into the room with minimal finesse.</p><p>High King Doyoung of the Northern Kingdom is standing in the center, poring over some maps that are strewn across a table, and Queen Irene is there next to him, pointing something out when their heads jerk up at the sound of the doors opening.</p><p>“Mark! You’re here!” Doyoung exclaims, dropping a short stack of parchment down on the table, uncaring of how it nearly falls over. “How have you been?” He rushes over, but pauses just before leaning in to give Mark a hug, letting Mark take that last step himself to show that he’s comfortable. He wraps his arms around Doyoung, masking his smile in his shoulder.</p><p>“I’ve been alright, Doyoung,” Mark replies. “I’m better now.”</p><p>“You can’t have him all to yourself, Doyoung,” Irene teases her husband from behind them, making the king reluctantly step back. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Mark,” she tells him, bringing him into her own embrace. </p><p>“Likewise, Irene,” Mark says, pulling back. </p><p>“You’re so grown up now and everything,” she gushes, fawning over Mark for a moment before she collects herself. “It’s like having a little brother come home after all this time. We’ve missed you here, and if it weren’t for the Festival of the Seas, we would’ve been there at your coronation.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright,” Mark assures, brushing her concerns off easily. “I understand the importance of domestic duties, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Of course you do.” Doyoung places a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “The court will be starting session in a few minutes, if you’d like to join us. We weren’t expecting you here quite this early.”</p><p>“I’d love to observe, if you don’t mind.” Mark’s gaze falls past where it had been meeting Doyoung’s to see a portrait on the far wall, of Doyoung’s late father standing next to Mark’s, with Doyoung and Taeyong standing in front of them — a symbol of their alliance, despite there only being one person in that painting who’s still alive and with them. His eyes travel past it with some difficulty, tracing along the gilded, domed ceiling of the room and the intricate paintings that cover it. </p><p>Mark’s hit with an unprecedented wave of nostalgia, and Doyoung’s eyes turn to follow where Mark’s gaze rests. He smiles softly, squeezing Mark’s shoulder gently before letting go.</p><p>“Hasn’t changed a bit, has it?” Doyoung clears his throat, straightening up. “I’ll leave you here to get acquainted with the space before you’re overwhelmed by more people, yes?”</p><p>With nothing further, Irene ushers the two brothers away so Mark can regain his bearings in a bit more peace. Renjun already stands over by the table in the center of the room, sending Mark a curious look before he turns his attention back to the papers in front of him.</p><p>Mark doesn’t remember of Donghyuck’s presence until he feels someone’s gaze burning into the side of his head, and Mark turns to see Donghyuck’s head cocked, his eyes searching Mark’s face.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“I’ve just never seen you this happy before.” Donghyuck shrugs, unbothered. That comment irks Mark a little more than he shows, resisting the urge to curl his lip in distaste.</p><p>“Oh, if you think he’s happy with <em> us </em>, you should wait until you see him—” Jeno calls, but is promptly shut up by a sharp elbow to the side from Renjun. Mark looks back at Donghyuck in time to see the knight school his expression into something more neutral, all indecipherable emotions wiped off of his features to be replaced with a blank stare that Mark mirrors.</p><p>Donghyuck’s words linger in Mark’s mind for much longer than he’d like to admit. Donghyuck’s only been around him for a month, which means that if he’s noticed how chronically <em> unhappy </em> Mark is, then others are bound to have noticed as well. He’s not doing a great job of hiding it, and he needs to do better about holding everything in. He needs to be a strong king, one that his people can look up to and not be worried about him letting them down.</p><p>The door to the room opens again, and Mark resolves to deal with that later when he can, because for right now, he’s content being around the closest thing to a family that he has left.</p><p>A slew of familiar faces wander in slowly, all much older but still the same people that he’s known since he was a child. One face in particular sticks out, though, and that’s the face of Lady Mina. She’s chatting with a couple other women, one of which Mark recognizes as Yeeun, but she stops talking the moment she looks up and sees him.</p><p>“Mark!” she calls, rushing over to pull him into a hug. “Goddess, it’s been forever! Jeno told me you were coming, but I told him I wouldn’t believe it until you were here and— you’ve really grown up, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Hello to you too, Mina.” Mark hugs her back, uncaring of the prying eyes that surround them. They’ve long since dropped formalities with one another, having known each other too long to bother with them. There’s a very select group of people that are allowed to refer to him without a title, and Mina is one of the few on that list. “It’s been too long.”</p><p>“Of course it’s been too long! You never visit!” she complains, pulling back to frown at him.</p><p>“Neither do you.” Mark raises an eyebrow and Mina grins at him, pushing a lock of long, dark hair behind her ear. She used to keep it short as a child so it wouldn’t get in her way when she roughoused with the boys, but now that she has duties in court, it’s what’s customary in the Northern Kingdom. </p><p>“You haven’t changed a bit on the inside, have you?” Mina laughs, gesturing forward to direct Mark towards the center of the room. </p><p>Mark is about to reply, a witty remark on the tip of his tongue, the type he reserves for when he’s not in his own kingdom, when Jeno groans so loudly that both him and Mina have to stifle their laughter.</p><p>“Now we have to deal with <em> politics, </em> don’t we?” He sounds so exasperated, it’s amusing. In another life, he’d be a knight — strong, brave, a little bit dense at times, but no less loveable. Unfortunately for him, he was born into nobility and has to suffer the consequences.</p><p>“That’s what tends to happen when you have political visitors, yes,” Mark replies, placing the palm of his hand between Jeno’s shoulderblades as he approaches, a sign to not take the comment too seriously.</p><p>“Well, then, I’m heading out to—” Jeno starts to turn around, but Renjun grabs him by the collar to keep him there.</p><p>“Oh, no you’re not. You’re going to stay right here,” Renjun says. Jeno looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide and his bottom lip sticking out just a bit, but he does as he’s told. Once everyone is gathered around the table and quieted down, the doors to the throne room now shut, Doyoung begins.</p><p>Over the course of the meeting, Mark is slowly introduced to the entire northern court, and does his best not to be overwhelmed by the onslaught of names and positions that come at him from seemingly all directions. Mina and Jeno are at his sides the whole time, though, helping him when he needs it without him even having to open his mouth to ask.</p><p>Mark even catches the name of Doyoung’s knight, a serious looking young woman named Yeji. She stands off to the side of the room with Mark’s guards, who slipped into the room at some point earlier along with Ten, who now stands at Irene’s side, as well as some other unfamiliar faces of the northern guard. He can only assume that Jeno and Irene’s knights are among the group, but doesn’t know for sure. The harsh pinch between Yeji’s eyebrows is only softened when Donghyuck leans over and whispers something to her, and a smile twitches at her lips. Ryujin, who’s standing next to them, must’ve heard it because she snorts before whacking Donghyuck on the back of the head for whatever he just said, and Mark has to tear his gaze away from them.</p><p>Mark idly wonders if Donghyuck really has a sense of humor other than bitter cynicism.</p><p>For the most part, Mark stays quiet, letting the court go about to complete the business that they need to, only chiming in when someone directly asks for his opinion. It’s not his place to assert his power or opinion here when it’s not called upon, and his decision to sit back doesn’t go unappreciated by several of the members of the court, who approach him afterwards to thank him.</p><p>It makes him wonder how much differently his father must have acted.</p><p>As the court is adjourned and everyone is dismissed, Mina slips from Mark’s side to go talk with Irene for a moment, and Mark remains standing at the table to look over one of the maps of a proposed trade route, unintentionally listening in.</p><p>“The celebration is set for five days from now,” Mina’s saying as Mark thumbs through some pieces of parchment in search of a written proposal they’d discussed earlier.</p><p>“That’s plenty of time for preparation,” Irene replies. “We can only hope that the weather will hold out for the duration of the visit.”</p><p>“Is it set to snow so soon?”</p><p>Mark turns around to see Mina’s concerned expression, facing Irene’s shaking head.</p><p>“I don’t know, but the winds have been picking up as of late, and that’s enough of a cause for concern around here. If it chills too cold too fast, that will detriment the remainder of the fishing season. The shorelines will ice over.”</p><p>“So we wait it out?” Mina asks, looking over to Mark as he approaches.</p><p>“There’s nothing else we can do,” Irene confirms, giving Mina’s hand a gentle touch and Mark an equally soft smile before gliding away, presumably to keep Jeno from antagonizing Doyoung too much. He’s sweet most of the time, but Jeno can be an absolute menace when he wants to be.</p><p>“There’s a feast tonight in your honor, Mark.” Mina’s voice picks up a cheery note that it’d been lacking earlier. “Think you’ll survive?”</p><p>“What a tragedy,” Mark deadpans, offering her an arm to take, which she gladly accepts. “I suppose we’ll have to make the most of it then.”</p><p>“Make the most of what?” Jeno chimes in walking over with Renjun. They’re grinning about something, and Mark doesn’t have any doubt that they’ll fill them in on it immediately.</p><p>“The parties. They’re much better here than they are back in the west,” Mark fills in, letting Mina lead where they’re heading off to.</p><p>“Speaking of the west… how’s Lord Jaemin nowadays?” Mina pesters as Jeno matches stride with Mina, leaving Renjun to fall in just to Mark’s other side. Mark knows Donghyuck isn’t far behind.</p><p>He tries not to think about how he only has a week left of this paradise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hopefully????????? the next chapter won't take a literal MONTH to get out???? but idk man WE'LL SEE<br/>in the meantime!!! thank you all so much for all of the support i got on the first chapter of this??? i was really nervous about posting it at first, but all of the love it received made me really really excited to keep working on it!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Morgenstemning I Ørkenen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mark has never experienced time go as fast as it does his week as a visitor in the Northern Kingdom.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>morgenstemning [or, morning mood, as it's more commonly known] from grieg's peer gynt suite is often associated with huge, green forests that resonate with grieg's scandanavian origins [and the western kingdom here]. however, in the play, the first notes of morgenstemning i ørkenen resonate when peer gynt wakes up alone in the middle of the desert, finding out that his friends moved him there while he was sleeping so they could steal his yacht. which is fun. peer gynt needs better friends.<br/>in other words: paradise isn't always exactly how it sounds, and mark needs to be more wary of who he surrounds himself with.</p><p>is this chapter really long? yes<br/>should i have split it up? probably<br/>did it take me almost four months to write? we aren't talking about that</p><p>happy birthday mark!!!! i hope you never read this :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark has never experienced time go as fast as it does his week as a visitor in the Northern Kingdom. It’s a whirlwind of meeting new faces and reuniting with old friends as Mark re-acquaints himself with the home-away-from-home he once knew so well.</p><p>The moon’s pull isn’t as strong up north, the dormant water goddess’ hold over the mountains and fjords warding off the moon goddess’ active tugging on Mark’s soul, and Mark finds himself sleeping much better than he has in years. It’s a change Mark wishes that he could afford to get used to, but his time here is limited.</p><p>For the most part, when Mark isn’t resting, he’s helping out around the castle. Although both Doyoung and Irene told him that he has absolutely no requirement to do so, he insists upon doing whatever he can. He knows that he would get restless if he were to have nothing to do, and the guilt of taking advantage of the Northern Kingdom’s warm hospitality would pile on quick, so he puts himself to work wherever he can.</p><p>Mark, Renjun, Irene, and Doyoung pore over maps depicting the valleys that surround the ancient Bronze City, deciding where might be best for direct trade routes from the north to the south. They discuss everything from the current state of the North-West Alliance to new treaties to the official shift of power on Mark’s end of things. It’s overall a rather productive visit when Jeno’s not dragging him off to see and do things together around the castle.</p><p>He even gets to talk to Renjun a little bit about Renjun’s current predicament with his titles and lying by omission one morning, but Jeno ends up splitting that up too, declaring that Mark has to see something in the gardens. Renjun waves them off, saying that he’s sure they’ll find another time to continue the discussion before Mark leaves. Funnily enough, they don’t meet again for the rest of Mark’s time in the Northern Kingdom — whether it’s by accident or purposely crafted by Renjun, Mark may never know.</p><p>When he’s not dealing with politics or a needy Jeno, Mark helps tend to the children of the busy nobility along with Mina and Yeeun, giving them lessons and more or less just keeping them out of trouble. It’s honestly one of the brightest parts of the day, not to say that the others are dull, and the fact that Jeno has taken to joining them when he can spare the time makes it all that much better.</p><p>They’re all out in the gardens one late morning just before the children will be ushered back into the dining hall for lunch, enjoying the sunshine. It’s at least cooler here, where the breeze off the ocean reaches all the way into the palace, keeping Mark from overheating instead of the sticky humidity that often lingers around the western forests during the summer months.</p><p>He’s chatting away idly with Mina when there’s a tug on his sleeve, and he looks down to see a young girl there, her hands now clasped neatly behind her back as she rocks back and forth on her feet nervously.</p><p>“King Mark? May I request something of you?” The child addresses him with such timidity that Mark has to smile as he crouches down, taking her hands between his own gloved ones carefully.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Could you show us your magic?” The girl’s eyes are wide as she asks, gaze framed by her dark curls that Mark gently tucks behind her ears.</p><p>Out of all the requests Mark expected the child to make, this wasn’t one of them, and he tries not to let his surprise show. It’s never a request that he’d receive back in the Western Kingdom — Mark’s magic is regarded as something of a taboo that no one speaks of unless it’s necessary, often considered unholy despite being gifted by the moon goddess herself.</p><p>Here in the north, they celebrate all goddess-given gifts, regardless of their manifestation or from which goddess’ good will they’ve arrived from. The tactic, although more of an ingrained belief now than anything, has treated them well over the years, causing their kingdom to flourish despite their own patron goddess remaining dormant for now. Mark would be a fool to not acknowledge the northern customs and traditions, especially with Jeno within earshot just several paces back.</p><p>Mark glances at him, unsure for a moment if it would be considered proper, but Jeno merely grins at him in reply, eyes turning into little crescents that remind Mark of the view of the moon he has from his balcony back in his own kingdom. He spreads his arms a bit, palms facing up: an invitation to show off as much as he’d like. With unprecedented delight, Mark smiles back at him before turning to the girl once more.</p><p>“Of course, young one,” he says. “Would you like to gather your friends so they can see it too?”</p><p>The girl squeals in excitement, bouncing off to find her other companions. Mark watches her skip off into the gardens, memories of him and Jeno doing the same when they were younger. A hand slips around Mark’s shoulder and squeezes gently; he doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s Jeno. The hand is too familiar to be anyone else’s.</p><p>“I’m surprised you said yes, but at the same time, I’m not surprised at all,” Jeno muses. “When’s the last time you used your magic? Intentionally, that is.”</p><p>Mark doesn’t have to think about his answer.</p><p>“The night of the coronation,” he replies, looking over at Jeno finally. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to demonstrate to them. My magic really isn’t that exciting.” He tugs at his gloves, unsure. Using magic in the privacy of his bedroom and using magic in front of dozens of curious eyes are two entirely different categories, and Mark can’t even recall the last time he used his magic in front of someone else besides Jaemin.</p><p>“Sure, you do,” Jeno assures. “That thing you used to do here when we were kids?”</p><p>It takes Mark an extended moment to remember this time. He didn’t use his magic very much as a child because of how draining it was on his small body and he’d often have to spend hours recovering from even the most minor of usages. Which means that Jeno can only be talking about one thing. It brings mixed emotions because the first time Mark attempted it, he’d passed out for the remainder of the afternoon and was promptly scolded by everyone to never do it again. By the time he’d grown into his power a bit and next tried it, it was one of the most spectacular things he’d ever done.</p><p>“I think you might be onto something, dear prince,” Mark begins, a smile growing once more. He wants to say more, but the little girl has returned with a posse of other children rushing behind her. Even Mina and Yeeun are trailing behind the rest of them, making sure no one gets left behind or lost in the expansive gardens. </p><p>Mina’s giving him a questioning look, as if unsure that the little girl was telling the truth about Mark being willing to demonstrate his magic, but he simply nods and she lets it go with nothing more than an amused eyebrow raise.</p><p>“I brought my friends, King Mark!” the girl exclaims, running up to him. “Could we see now, please?”</p><p>“Since you asked so politely,” Mark replies, patting the top of her head once before turning his attention to the gardens. It should be an easily manageable feat even without taking his gloves off, if Mark’s estimations are on point. They usually are.</p><p>He raises his hands in front of him, concentrating. Mark honestly doesn’t know that his magic is cooperating with him until the air grows colder around them, uncharacteristically so even for a summer in the north, and there’s a pressure in his ribcage. The pressure continues to grow as the sunlight seems to dim, replaced by a soft, silvery glow cast by the moon that’s still present in the daytime sky. Another moment passes before Mark sees his success blooming in front of his very eyes — quite literally. </p><p>All across the gardens, in the trees and up the vine-covered walls, and in the flowerbeds, begin to pop up small smatterings of indigo petals, unfurling with grace. The moonflowers find homes amongst the beds of the snowlilies of the Northern Kingdom, creating small planes of purples and whites that blend together beautifully.</p><p>Somewhere in his periphery, the children go wide-eyed in awe, little gasps of surprise and wonder erupting around him. Under the strange, hazy light, the moonflowers almost seem to glow amongst their snow-colored companions, and just as it was all those years ago, the sight of his own magic takes Mark aback. It's not often that he freely gets to create such beautiful things, and certainly not in public. It's refreshing.</p><p>There's a sharp cry, then, and Mark looks down to see one of the children having nearly tripped into the flowerbeds and crushed one of the indigo blooms beneath the sole of their boot. Before Mina can rush over, Mark waves her off and approaches the boy carefully, the sunlight returning as the light and temperature return to normal.</p><p>"Are you alright?" he asks gently. The boy whips around, tears welling up in his eyes.</p><p>"King Mark! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I wasn't paying attention and then I—" the boy blubbers, hands caught between wanting to cover his ruddy cheeks and pick up what remains of the flattened purple petals stuck in the dirt.</p><p>"Don't apologize," Mark insists, taking the boy's hands in one of his own. "What's important is that you recognize your misstep and you learn from it, right?"</p><p>"Right," the boy replies, still sounding a little unconvinced but significantly less close to tears. He sniffles once, offering Mark a timid smile.</p><p>"Would you like some help with that?" Mark gestures carefully to the flower. He watches on closely as a myriad of emotions flick past the boy's face — everything from confusion to intrigue to hopefulness makes an appearance as he struggles to figure out how to respond to such a proposition.</p><p>"How?" the boy eventually settles on. "How can you help?"</p><p>Mark smiles at his wordlessly and picks up the crushed bud from the ground, holding it out in his palm. He glances away at Mina and Jeno, flicking his head off to the side, and they get the message, ushering the other children away from where Mark is crouched next to the boy. One figure lingers back, eyes watchful, but Mark's figured out how to disregard his presence by now.</p><p>He turns back to the boy, whose eyes are now shining with unbridled curiosity instead of tears. Offering the boy the flower, Mark watches him gingerly take it, brows furrowing as he examines the extent of the damage. Using his body to shield his hands from any prying onlookers, Mark carefully reaches in front of him and takes off his gloves, placing them carefully in his breast pocket so they don't get soiled. The boy sucks in a breath, but returns the confident smile that Mark gives him.</p><p>Cupping the boy's hands in his own, together they incase the moonflower with their bare fingers. Mark concentrates, biting down on his lip; he hasn't done this in a while. After a moment, a soft, silvery glow shines through the gaps in their fingers, reflected in the boy's widened eyes, feeling the sudden rush of cold between their palms. As soon as it comes, though, it vanishes, and Mark unfurls their hands to reveal the flower — unflattened and petals stained with silver patches from the magic, but alive and otherwise unharmed.</p><p>The boy gasps, stroking one of the petals delicately with his thumb as he looks up at Mark. A bashful smile curves onto his lips, cheeks now rosy with a shy blush instead of tearfulness. He's under the impression he just made a fool of himself in front of the Western King, and Mark won't stand for it.</p><p>"Now, now, there's no need for embarrassment," Mark begins, plucking the flower up and placing it behind the boy's ear before tapping his small chin softly. "Chin up. You've done well today. I'm sure your friends are waiting for you, aren't they?"</p><p>The boy nods, once, then quickly puts a hand to his ear to make sure the flower hasn't fallen out of place. Sheepishly finding that it's still exactly where Mark put it, he grins brightly and dashes off. Mark stays crouched there for a moment, watching him go. It makes him wonder if he was like that as a child, so joyful and lively.</p><p>A bout of lightheadedness strikes him, so Mark stays low for an extended moment to regain his bearings. Mark has always been better at healing plants than he has at healing humans, that doesn't mean it's easy. Of course, they're far simpler than humans, whose bodies tend to be hot-tempered and much more fickle when it comes to accepting an outside source of healing like Mark’s magic, but it still takes a lot out of him. Healing is never a one-entity process, instead requiring a connection between the healer and the one accepting healing, otherwise it could only end up hurting them both, which is why it's never been a common practice of the recipient of the moon goddess' gifts as far as history has been recorded.</p><p>With a contemplative hum, he stands up straight once again, now feeling much more stable. He slides his gloves back on as he turns around and is promptly met with both the presence of Donghyuck, which he expected, as well as Jeno, which is entirely unexpected since Mark distinctly remembers sending him off with the others just a moment ago. They both watch as Mark finishes tugging his second glove back on, Donghyuck confused and Jeno simply amused.</p><p>“Your Majesty…” Donghyuck gapes. “Is… your hair…?”</p><p>“It’s temporary, don’t mind it,” Mark dismisses. “It will fade back to normal in just a moment.”</p><p>“But… it’s… <em> white?” </em> Donghyuck, for once, seems to be so completely at a loss for words that whatever sounds do come out of his mouth can barely constitute as words anyway. Mark really tries not to find it too amusing.</p><p>“A product of the magic,” Mark explains, waving off his awe. “The goddess leaves her mark on me when I channel her power, and this is just how it manifests.” He can’t see them, but he reaches up to touch gently at the streaks in his hair that have been bleached of their color, leaving them an almost silvery shade of white. The little demonstration wasn’t long or powerful enough to warrant all of his hair going blond — that’s only happened once before — but he’s sure that at least the little bits by his temples have changed color.</p><p>“You look good, Mark,” Jeno comments, walking forward to offer Mark his elbow. Mark takes it with a smile. “Shall we return to the others, now?”</p><p>“We shall,” Mark says, paying no more mind to Donghyuck’s still-flabbergasted state as he trails behind them.</p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p> </p><p>The true, full-blown celebration regarding Mark’s visit doesn’t happen until his last full day in the kingdom. The nobility inside the castle had feasted every night in his honor, but today, the kingdom as a whole gets to join in the festivities.</p><p>Mark is awake and dressed before the sun rises, watching the marketplace being set up in the palace courtyard — something that only ever happens on special occasions like this. The marketplace will open the second the sun peeks over the horizon and will remain open until dusk, and Mark’s determined to experience as much of it as he can.</p><p>He’s out on a balcony on the front of the palace before the bugles even sound to signal the appearance of the sun and the opening of the market, observing with quiet enthusiasm as people flood in to do their bargaining and buying with the vendors. From what he can see, there are carts selling just about everything imaginable: from vibrant flowers to fresh vegetables to hand-stitched clothing. He takes it all in with wide eyes, his gloved hands gripping the stone balustrade with barely contained glee.</p><p>“Well don’t you look excited for being up this early in the morning,” a voice comes from behind Mark, and he doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is.</p><p>“I just can’t believe you get to see this so often,” Mark replies.</p><p>“It’s really not <em> that </em> often, Mark,” Jeno rebukes, sliding into place next to him at the railing. “It’s mostly just for holidays, but we made an exception for you.” He hesitates for a moment before continuing. “You know, sometimes I think everyone here likes you more than they like me.” It’s meant to be a joke, but something in his voice is just a bit too raw for Mark to let it pass by.</p><p>“That’s not true and you know it,” Mark declares, turning to him. “Your people adore you like no other. You’re their <em> prince, </em> Jen.”</p><p>“And we both know that royal titles always mean respect, right?” Jeno grumbles, but holds his hands up in defense when Mark gives him a look. “I’m glad you like it, though. We did it for you.”</p><p>“My appreciation goes beyond words,” Mark breathes, letting Jeno off the hook as he watches the early morning light stretch across the expanse of the wide courtyard, dipping everything in a surreal, golden hue. He has to blink a couple times to make sure he’s still seeing everything as it truly is and not just letting his imagination get the best of him.</p><p>“We can go down, if you’d like,” Jeno offers cautiously. “It’s still early and there aren’t too many people, so we could go explore without the press of the midday crowds.”</p><p>Mark nearly gasps, “We’re allowed to join?”</p><p>“Of course we are…” Jeno frowns. “Don’t tell me you don’t join in on the moon festival celebration when it comes around.”</p><p>“No.” Mark shakes his head, turning away from the railing back toward the castle. “The royal family never has, not for as long as the history books can recount, and trust me, I’ve read them all. Besides, even when we’d come visit up here when I was younger, my father never let me go out during the festivals, even though I’m pretty sure Taeyong ended up sneaking out with Doyoung.”</p><p>“You can change that, you know.”</p><p>“Jeno, I…” Mark trails off, looking back over his shoulder at the marketplace. “These things have been around for centuries, and I’m sure they were instated for good reason. I just don’t know about this, Jen.”</p><p>“At least think about it. You’re the king now, are you not? You can change the rules, set new precedents.” Jeno laughs to himself. “You Westerners are too uptight in my opinion anyway.”</p><p><em> “Hey!” </em> Mark exclaims, indignant.</p><p>“My point exactly.” Jeno grins and offers his arm for Mark to take. “It’s still early. I’ll be with you and we don’t have to stay long. Just experience it once, that’s all I’m asking.”</p><p>Mark isn’t sure exactly what convinces him in the end: Jeno’s smile, his words, the eager way he holds his elbow out, the knowledge that it’s safe here, or the absolutely disapproving look on Donghyuck’s face that Mark catches when he looks back at the doorway. He doesn’t have the time to ponder it before he’s moving his gaze away from Donghyuck’s face and flashing Jeno a rather diplomatic smile.</p><p>“Alright,” he agrees, slipping the curve of his wrist around the bend of Jeno’s elbow. “Let’s go.”</p><p>They exit the balcony together, Mark’s shoulder just barely brushing by a now neutral-faced Donghyuck. Mark admits that it’s a little petty, but if it’s the tiny bit of retribution for the noise that Donghyuck and his nightly conquests make in the room down the hall that has kept Mark up until ungodly hours of the night, he’ll take what he can get.</p><p>Even then, despite the little display, Donghyuck turns and follows them out diligently, accompanied by one of Jeno’s many revolving knights who can never keep track of the mischievous prince for too long. If his memory serves him well, this knight’s name is Seungmin, but he could be wrong.</p><p>Mark tries to shake the thoughts of knights out of his mind — he doesn’t really care to dwell on any of them at the moment, especially Donghyuck who has been deliberately pressing at all of Mark’s buttons this week and patience is finally fraying at the seams. He’s flirted with both the northern court as <em> well </em> as their guards, has neglected his duties in favor of escaping out to the barracks to train with the other knights, and has even forced Mark to seek refuge in the library on the ground floor because of the outright rambunctious noises he makes at night with whatever different man or woman he’s escorted into his chambers that evening. At least Mark’s found the chairs in the corner of the library by the fireplace to be especially comfortable to read in.</p><p>It’s ridiculous, really, that Donghyuck can’t keep his trousers up for a <em> week </em> while they’re on a political visit.</p><p>Mark sighs. So much for getting his mind off of knights.</p><p>He has to force down a grimace that threatens to curve at his lips as he and Jeno descend the stairs arm-in-arm, only to turn the corner and be greeted by the sight of Mina and Yeeun there, clearly waiting for them.</p><p>“Took you two long enough,” Mina teases, hand on her hip. She’s wearing much less formal attire today than what she’d normally wear to her court sessions: a simple silk dress decorated in glittering embroidery around the hem and neckline, sleeves only just grazing her elbows with the lace trim. Yeeun, similarly dressed, snickers.</p><p>“I should’ve known you two would be here this early,” Jeno bemoans. “Now I have to be <em> seen </em> with you two.”</p><p>He earns himself a slap on the back of his head for that comment, courtesy of a smiling Yeeun.</p><p>“You certainly don’t have any problem being seen with Mark,” she points out, eyebrow raised.</p><p>“And…?” Jeno prompts, not backing down. “Who <em> wouldn’t </em> want to be seen with Mark?”</p><p>Yeeun laughs, putting her hands up to signal her defeat, letting Mina pat her shoulder in consolation as they make their way out of the main doors of the castle and down the steps into the courtyard.</p><p>Mark’s immediately taken by everything going on, despite having seen it from up above just minutes ago. Now that everything’s so tangible and within his grasp, he can’t seem to get enough of it, and Jeno continually makes fun of him for the way he nearly skips around. His jokes don’t hold much weight when he follows Mark despite them, eyes lighting up when he sees something interesting at a particular cart.</p><p>More than the snacks and trinkets that Jeno insists upon buying for him when Mark’s eyes linger on something for an extended moment, Mark enjoys simply getting to speak with the market-goers. They’re far from dismissive or disrespectful, but they don’t put him on a pedestal of superiority, and there’s no air of fear around them when Mark approaches. They speak to him like he’s a real person, and it’s oddly invigorating. The way his presence is received here as opposed to back home is a welcome change, and Mark knows it’s just going to make leaving all that much harder.</p><p>With some gentle encouragement from Jeno, Mark even sprouts moonflowers and sprigs of rosemary in little crowns for the children playing in the square who beg to see his magic. They prance away only to return just minutes later and coerce Mark into sitting down to they can weave snowflowers around his own delicate silver circlet that he wears to signify who he is — as if the royal blue of his clothing doesn’t already give him away as hailing from the Western Kingdom.</p><p>He didn’t expect to spend this long in the market, anticipating to linger for an hour or two before disappearing back inside the castle when it got busier, but he doesn’t ever find the desire to leave, and as much as he hates to admit it to himself, a decent amount of that has to do with Donghyuck. Despite how despicable he may find his knight and his values, having his presence around is a silent, familiar comfort between every new sight and sound. It’s something to fall back to when things become just a bit much, and today of all days, Mark is thankful that Donghyuck actually does his damn job.</p><p>They stay out through the dredges of the afternoon, eating and talking and playing. Mark’s eyes settle on a lute in the hands of an elderly man as he plays some vaguely familiar folk song and hums as children play around him. He can’t recall the last time he touched a lute, let alone played one. Taeyong had learned how to play from their mother, and had taught Mark late at night when they could find an empty room to take their gloves off in and pluck at the strings until they were red and raw and the sun was beginning to peek up over the horizon. </p><p>Jeno must follow his gaze to the lute, and Mark has to grab him by the elbow so he doesn’t try and buy it off the man for Mark’s sake.</p><p>“Jeno, just—” He’s cut off by the blare of a bugle in the middle of the square, and he whips around to see a crowd quickly encircling some hastily erected wooden fencing that blocks off a rectangle that’s ten or twelve times as long as it is wide. “What’s going on?”</p><p>He looks to Jeno for an answer, but the prince is already nearly vibrating out of his skin, eyes alight with excitement as he grasps at Mark’s wrist blindly, never taking his eyes off of the commotion as he tugs him toward it. Mark has to apologize to the people he nearly runs into with Jeno’s haste.</p><p>When they finally stop, they’re right up by the fencing, and Mark finds himself standing next to Doyoung. As much as the king wearing something much more subdued than his usual attire, the crown on his head and the way he carries himself earns just a bit of space between him and the crowd out of respect.</p><p>“Jeno, Jeno, please,” Mark gasps out, laughing a little bit at the abruptness of everything. “What’s happening?”</p><p>“Jousting!” Jeno claps his hands together, eagerly looking around. “They don’t always hold matches during festivals, but when they do, they’re one of the most fun things to watch.”</p><p>“Then why don’t you go participate?” Mark asks, as a legitimate question. The rules on royalty and weapons are significantly less strict — if not nonexistent — here than how they are for Mark back home, and he’s seen just how good Jeno is.</p><p>“I’m usually not allowed to,” Jeno admits, his smile dimming a bit.</p><p>“Ahem,” Doyoung clears his throat. “I’ll give you permission this time if you attend the meeting tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Jeno nearly squeals with glee, hugging his brother in a very informal manner. As much as Doyoung tries to pry Jeno off of him, Mark can see the smile that threatens to break out across his face as he shakes his head. He gets the feeling that Doyoung doesn’t often let Jeno participate due to how easily injuries can be sustained, but has never explained his reasoning to Jeno.</p><p>Someone steps up onto a box in the middle of the fenced off area, bugle in hand, and cries out, “Who would like to join the tournament?”</p><p>Unsurprisingly, Jeno’s the first to call out his name.</p><p>The entire crowd seems to collectively turn to Doyoung to see if he really permitted this, but he doesn’t pay them any mind and simply nods to Jeno, a little crease forming between his brows.</p><p>It’s all great for a second, and Mark’s basking in the glow of Jeno’s giddiness as the coordinator jots Jeno’s name down onto the parchment, but then the silence hits him. No one else has volunteered to join</p><p>Mark glances around to see the wary shifting of feet and the worried murmurs, and Mark looks back to see Doyoung’s lips drawn into a thin line. That’s when he understands the second part of Doyoung’s reasoning. Jeno’s too good at this. It explains both why Doyoung keeps him from doing it and why Jeno seemingly doesn’t understand why — Jeno’s blind to his own strength and skill at times. He’s been training for the Prophesized War since he was born, and although the other knights can keep up with him, others cannot. No one wants to go up against someone they know they’ll lose to.</p><p>Jeno’s smile begins to dim when he looks around, pulling out his unintentional, yet irresistible, pout. It must tug on the heartstrings of those around who can see him because the moon in the crowd shifts from nervous to apologetic so fast that Mark almost gets whiplash.</p><p>“Isn’t King Mark here? Can’t he do it?” someone nearby whispers, and the idea catches fire among the market-goers. The whispers rise in approval of the idea, and Mark panics, turning to Doyoung with wide eyes because he doesn’t know what to do. Mark has never touched a lance in his life because it’s forbidden for him to do so back in the west. Doyoung looks equally lost, unsure of how to address the situation.</p><p>Neither of them end up having to because a voice speaks up from just behind them and Mark goes rigid. It’s a terribly familiar voice that makes Mark want to bang his head against the fence in front of him, and what’s said doesn’t make him feel any better.</p><p>“I’ll volunteer,” Donghyuck declares, stepping up next to Jeno at the fence so everyone in the crowd can see the royal blue of his tunic and the moonstones on the hilt of the sword at his side and make the connection as to who he is. “I’ll do it.”</p><p>The crowd erupts in cheers, placated by this substitution, and Jeno’s too excited about the prospect of having a partner who might actually be a decent challenge to see how perturbed Mark looks.</p><p>Mark catches Donghyuck’s wrist and pulls him back while Jeno gives Donghyuck’s name to the coordinator.</p><p>“Sir Donghyuck, just what do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.</p><p>“I think I’m being a good guest, entertaining my host’s desires and all that,” Donghyuck replies easily, equally hushed. At least he has the propriety to do that much, although he does nothing to mask the spite his tone carries.</p><p>“You can’t fight Prince Jeno.” Mark feels ridiculous and a little petulant, forbidding Donghyuck from doing this. Unfortunately, Donghyuck seems to notice this and doesn’t hesitate to prey on that insecurity.</p><p>“It’s not fighting, Your Majesty. I simply challenged him in a jousting match.” He raises a challenging eyebrow, a smirk curving at one side of his lips.</p><p>“It’s still going in direct opposition to a member of the hosting royal family, and if something happens, do you have any idea how much trouble you’d be in? I won’t be able to help you.”</p><p>“I don’t need your help,” Donghyuck scoffs.</p><p>“Clearly you do!” Mark has to work to keep his voice low, but the ambient noise that the crowd is putting off covers up what he doesn’t manage to keep completely hushed. “This is a diplomatic visit and if you end up injuring the Crown Prince, or <em> goddess forbid anything worse, </em> there’s nothing I can do to protect you, as one of my subjects, from the wrath of the law here. Not to mention that I’d be put in a very precarious political position with our closest ally—”</p><p>“Look, with all due respect, Your Majesty,” Donghyuck cuts him off, bowing away to escape the argument that he’s clearly losing. “You can’t really stop me.”</p><p>With that, he’s gone, leaving Mark with the words, “Yes, I really <em> can </em> stop you,” on the tip of his tongue, to be left unsaid.</p><p>Frustration boils up beneath Mark’s skin as he watches Donghyuck hop over the fence, followed closely by Jeno. What kind of a leader is he if he can’t even keep his own knight in line? What kind of a king would the rest of his kingdom see him as if they knew this? To think that he’d been just about ready to <em> thank </em> Donghyuck for his diligence to his duty today as well — now <em> that’s </em> hilarious, Mark thinks bitterly.</p><p>Ryujin materializes at Mark’s side a split second later, filling in the spot where Donghyuck had been. He has no idea where she came from, but he’s grateful for her presence.</p><p>“I can beat him up for you later,” she offers quietly. Mark struggles not to smile at that.</p><p>“While I can’t actively condone such actions, I’m not going to explicitly forbid it either.”</p><p>Ryujin laughs at that, and it makes Mark smile just a little bit. Doyoung eases himself up to Mark’s other side, watching the two men being helped into armor.</p><p>“You allowed this?” Doyoung asks, incredulous.</p><p>“That’s just the thing,” Mark says, displeasure seeping into his voice that he doesn’t bother to hide. “I didn’t.” </p><p>Doyoung makes the wise decision not to pry any further into it.</p><p>The crowd cheers Donghyuck and Jeno as they mount their steeds on opposite sides of the area, but Mark can’t bring himself to do the same, and neither can Doyoung apparently. There’s a split second where, as he mounts his steed, Donghyuck looks Mark dead in the eye, expression unreadable. It comes and goes so quickly that Mark’s half convinced that it didn’t happen at all because as soon as he processes it, Donghyuck’s busying himself with putting his helmet on.</p><p>Mark’s fingers twitch in their gloved confinements, knowing perfectly well that if he really wanted to, he could put a stop to this with a flick of his wrist. He doesn’t make a move to, though. Today isn’t really about him or what he wants; it’s a day of celebration for the people, and who is Mark to take that away from them?</p><p>A wave of diffident thoughts floods through his system and suddenly Mark can’t keep himself upright. He grips the fence in front of him for support, hissing out a breath in the hopes that the spiral of less than uplifting words in his head will dissipate with it.</p><p>“Mark?” Doyoung asks, voice carrying above the ringing in his ears. “Are you alright?”</p><p>There’s a hand on his back that Mark recognizes as Doyoung’s, and Ryujin hasn’t left her post at Mark’s side. Them being there gives him enough strength for him to straighten up and nod.</p><p>“I don’t think it’s in my best interest to watch this,” Mark tells him, thankful of the understanding look Doyoung gives him.</p><p>“Irene is still inside, and I’m sure she’d be delighted to have you join her,” Doyoung says. “She says you two still need to do some catching up.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Mark inclines his head respectfully before turning on his heel and weaving his way out of the crowd back toward the castle, Ryujin right behind him.</p><p>“He’s not doing a great job of being your knight, is he?” Ryujin comments offhandedly as they ascend the stairs to the main doors. They both know she isn’t really asking for a reply. “I’m supposed to report back to Jaehyun about how he’s doing anyway, so I’m sure he’ll have a talk with him about this once we get back.”</p><p>Mark hums, nodding to her words.</p><p>If there’s one person who can put Donghyuck back in line, it’s Jaehyun, and Mark trusts him wholeheartedly to do so. He’d promised to give Donghyuck a shot, but Mark’s usually limitless patience is being drawn taut and thin; one more poke could cause the whole thing to tear completely.</p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p> </p><p>The ball that evening puts Mark’s coronation ceremony to shame, and he has no problem with admitting that. His crowning was somewhat of a serious event, serving more of a political agenda than a personal one, but the celebration that the Northern Kingdom puts on is something that’s meant for the enjoyment of everyone and nothing less.</p><p>It’s hosted outside in the courtyard, the market carts now pushed to the edges of the space to make room for the biggest dance floor that Mark has ever seen. Paper lanterns illuminate the square with flickering light, giving everything a warm glow as night descends over the castle grounds. It’s a pleasant place to be, standing on the fringes of things between Jeno and Mina with Ryujin not too far behind him, watching the intricate circle dances happen in the center. At least, it <em> was </em>pleasant until Jeno started pestering Mark for a dance.</p><p>“C’mon, it’s just one little waltz,” he nearly whines, curling his fingers around Mark’s elbow. Mark laughs nervously, shaking him off.</p><p>“I haven’t danced in years, Jeno. Besides, I like watching from here.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Mark,” Mina urges, already grabbing for Mark’s hand to lead him out onto the dance floor. “We all know that you’re better at everything than you like to let on.” She pulls a face at Jeno when he gripes about Mina getting to dance with Mark first, but schools her expression into something a bit more formal as she walks Mark out.</p><p>“Thanks,” Mark says, placing a hand on her waist, clasping the other with hers as she rests her free palm on his shoulder.</p><p>“For what?” She looks at him oddly as the music strikes up and they begin to move. Mark’s muscle memory takes the wheel and they move together with much more grace than he expected.</p><p>“Saving me from dancing with Jeno,” he says, but the grin gives away that he’s just teasing. </p><p>“Oh, for sure,” she jokes, playing along. “Think of all the attention you’d get from <em> that.” </em> </p><p>Mark looks around, seeing all the eyes on them.</p><p>“I think we have a decent audience anyway,” he comments, and Mina draws her eyes to the same sight that Mark’s seeing. “They probably think we’re <em> fraternizing.” </em> He raises his brows comically, drawing out the word with a gasp.</p><p>“No offense, but I think I’d rather marry Jeno,” Mina gags. “You two have been more like my brothers than anything else.”</p><p>“At least we’re on the same page for that,” Mark laughs, spinning her around. “Is there anyone who has caught your eye? Someone special vying for your attention maybe?”</p><p>“My eye— oh.” Mina stops herself short, turning pink. Her eyes dart to the side, and Mark follows her gaze to where a woman stands. She doesn’t appear much older than Mina herself, with long, dark hair, a kind smile, and the insignia on her necklace is of the Kang House, to which Mina is the sole heir. The woman’s eyes haven’t left Mina’s figure in as long as Mark’s been looking.</p><p>“Tell me about her?” Mark prods gently, squeezing her hand.</p><p>“She’s one of my ladies-in-waiting… well technically Irene’s, but she attends to me more than anyone else,” she explains. This is the first time Mark has seen Mina this flustered over anything, and the urge to wrap her in a hug and protect her grows by the second. “Her name is Sejeong… but you know my parents would never approve of it. They still want to marry me off to some rich lord somewhere so I’ll be set for life, as if I’m not set for life <em> already </em> and in a great position to take over the estate when things come to that.”</p><p>“Your father’s still under the impression that women can’t be providers, I see,” Mark sighs, and Mina nods.</p><p>“It’s not like my mother’s any better, but yes.” Her eyes stray back to Sejeong, and Mark smiles.</p><p>“She’s really taken your heart, hasn’t she?”</p><p>“Completely and utterly,” Mina huffs. “It’s kind of pathetic, really.”</p><p>“Nothing about love is pathetic,” Mark admonishes quicker than he can stop himself. “You found it, and you should hold onto it with everything you have. As long as she makes you happy and is good to you, I’ll support you no matter what.”</p><p>“If you didn’t live so far away, it would be better,” Mina teases.</p><p>“I’m serious.” Mark draws his brows together. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’d drop anything for you, for Jeno. I hope you know that.”</p><p>“I know, Mark,” she assures. “We’d do the same for you.”</p><p>“I do ask that you invite me to the wedding, though.”</p><p>“If I can pull you away from your work…”</p><p>“I’ll make the time, I promise,” Mark pleads. “And if it comes to a point where your father… well… I mean if you’d want, I’d love to give you away.”</p><p>“I’d love that.” Mina’s smile grows into something brilliant and Mark can’t help but return it as she rubs her thumb across his knuckles. “Still wearing those gloves, are you?”</p><p>“It’s tradition,” he defends.</p><p>“It’s not like you didn’t break tradition as a kid enough for the rest of us combined.”</p><p>“I’m not a child anymore.”</p><p>“And I can see that,” Mina sighs. “You’ve grown up so well, Mark, but you’ve grown up too fast. You carry so much weight on your shoulders.” She taps her fingers across his shoulder to emphasize her point.</p><p>“A king bears the weight of his kingdom,” he deflects.</p><p>“I’m talking about more than that and we both know it,” she snaps. Mark stays quiet; he could never fight too long with Mina’s sharp intelligence and even sharper tongue. “I miss your father and brother, too, but you have to learn how to let them go eventually. It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>The song comes to a close as Mark considers his next words, and he backs up, stooping low in a cordial bow as he places a ghost of a kiss on Mina’s knuckles. If so many eyes weren’t on them, Mark’s sure she would’ve smacked him for that.</p><p>“Agree to disagree on that one, Lady Mina,” he finally replies. “I think it’s about time I take my leave for the night.”</p><p>“You’re running away from your feelings again,” Mina accuses softly, linking her elbow with Mark’s. The orchestra strikes up another lively tune as they take their leave from the makeshift dance floor. “And yet you still manage to be one of the bravest men I have the privilege of knowing.”</p><p>“Mm,” Mark hums in acknowledgement of her words but still not in agreement. “It’s always a delight getting to catch up with you, Mina. Your wisdom is beyond its years.”</p><p>“I know.” She grins, eyes twinkling with familiar mischief. “Good luck, King of the Western Forests. May the goddess be with you.”</p><p>Mark wiggles his fingers jokingly. “She always is.”</p><p>Mina laughs at that, a little louder than is strictly proper, but Mark doesn’t care — he never has and never will, especially not when it comes to her. He lets Mina slide her arm out from its link with his and watches as she glides across the edge of the space back to where Sejeong stands. Their smiles glow brighter when Mina rejoins her, and Mark can’t bother to stifle his own.</p><p>It makes something ache deep in his chest, accompanied by his heart beating against the bars of the gilded cage that Mark keeps it in. He can’t ever let himself love, but he’ll be damned if that stops him from supporting all of the love around him from blooming to its fullest potential. </p><p>He turns on his heel, weaving his way through the crowd of people that circle the dance floor until he makes it to Irene and Doyoung, who both spot him, greeting his appearance with expectant looks.</p><p>“I’m simply here to bid you goodnight,” Mark dismisses their concern easily. “The week has caught up with me and I need to retire earlier than anticipated.”</p><p>“You’re leaving?” Jeno pipes up from behind Mark and it takes everything he has not to jump at the sound of his voice. “All of this is for you… and it’s not even midnight yet! And you leave tomorrow!” His protests are valiant, if not a bit adorably desperate. Mark almost gives in, but Irene speaks before Mark has to.</p><p>“Jeno, darling.” Her voice carries enough warning in those four syllables than Mark has heard come out of anyone else’s mouth in a lifetime. “If Mark’s tired, then let him be. We do have to congregate rather early tomorrow morning.”</p><p>It goes unsaid that if Mark thinks he can sleep, he should be allowed to because they all know that he doesn’t get enough.</p><p>“Just one more dance?” Jeno pleads, turning his wide eyes on Mark. “With me? Just one, and then I promise I’ll let you go.”</p><p>“Jeno—” Irene begins to scold, but Mark gives her a gentle smile.</p><p>“It’s alright,” he assures before looking back to Jeno. “I suppose it’s a reasonable request after all. If it keeps him from complaining more, I’ll bend to his wishes.”</p><p>Jeno sticks out his tongue at that, but the little crescents that his eyes become tell a different story. Mark grins back, taking Jeno’s waiting hand as the song ends and the space clears out enough in the middle for them to join.</p><p>Funnily enough, as the prince leads him out, the rest of the dancers clear it, leaving just the two of them standing out in the middle. Mark, despite being a public figure, shies away from the attention because <em> everyone </em> is looking at them. Even when it was him and Mina together, they didn’t attract everyone’s eyes, but now that it’s the prince of this kingdom and the king of their strongest ally’s, the interest of the audience must be duly piqued.</p><p>He hates it when he can feel his cheeks heat up under everyone’s scrutiny, the whispers going around not even bothering to stay quiet enough to miss Mark’s ears. He ducks his head for just a moment to take a deep breath before he looks back up at Jeno, who’s grinning at him and Mark can’t help but smile back.</p><p>“Just follow my lead,” he murmurs, looking down at their hands when he laces their fingers together carefully. Mark <em> knows </em> that Jeno’s trying to be comforting, but he simply can’t resist the teasing words that fall off his tongue in reply, uninhibited because he knows Jeno won’t take them too seriously.</p><p>“You act like I didn’t know how to dance before you could walk,” Mark retorts. It’s true, and the blush that rises to the tips of Jeno’s ears means that the prince <em> knows </em> its truth. Mark can’t help but just drive the whole thing home at this point, enjoying seeing a flustered Jeno a bit too much. “And that I didn’t just dance an entire set with Mina just minutes ago.”</p><p>Jeno laughs at that, not losing the redness of his ears but still managing to take everything in stride the way he always does. Mark finds it surprisingly admirable.</p><p>“Fair enough, King Mark,” he says, placing his free hand gently on the flat of Mark’s shoulder, leaving Mark’s to rest on the curve of Jeno’s waist. “You lead then.”</p><p>As if everything was waiting for them — which it probably <em> was </em> — the music strikes up in a familiar melody that Mark can’t quite place but finds himself humming along to as they step off. It’s muscle memory that guides his feet across the cobblestones of the courtyard, Jeno moving perfectly in time with him in a way that makes his heart ache a little for a reason he can’t put into words.</p><p>It’s nice to dance with Jeno: easy, even. Mark can’t even count all of the emotions that flicker through him as they waltz, but it’s all pleasant and it leaves him feeling warm and oddly satisfied. Everything else slips into the background, nothing more than bright whirls of color and muted sounds meet his senses as they move together.</p><p>Unfortunately, the rose-tinted world shatters when one thing stands out in his vision. His knight. Of <em> course </em> it’s him <em> . </em> Donghyuck has cozied himself up in a little alcove with a familiar woman from the northern court that Mark can’t be bothered to recall the name of.</p><p>It takes no small amount of effort to make the conscious decision to not pay his promiscuous knight any attention for a couple of reasons. One: he doesn’t want to give Donghyuck the satisfaction of knowing that he’s annoyed by it. Two: he’s simply not worth any spare thoughts or energy that Mark has. They haven’t spoken since the jousting incident earlier that day, which Mark still intentionally remains ignorant to the outcome of, and Mark’s perfectly content to keep it that way. All he knows is that Jeno emerged unharmed and that’s what he cares about.</p><p>He trusts Donghyuck out of necessity — because he doesn’t have a <em> choice </em> — but he trusts him nonetheless. He’s inclined to keep doing so, even if it means leaving him to his own devices for the evening without Mark’s judging eyes. Mark can live with this.</p><p>His mind drifts away from that as Jeno spins him and Donghyuck disappears from his field of vision. Out of sight, out of mind, he supposes. A smile slowly creeps back to the corners of his lips again, upturning them. Mark hadn’t noticed that it dropped off when he saw Donghyuck, but that’s something he’ll think about later when he’s not preoccupied.</p><p>Mark almost doesn’t want the song to end, but the wave of fatigue that hits him the moment the last chord fades out is enough to make him change his mind on that rather quickly. Jeno seems to catch onto this and squeezes his shoulder softly before letting go to acknowledge the sudden applause they receive from the onlooking crowd. Numbness snakes into his fingertips and Mark lets his eyes stray to the moon, almost full, seeming just a little brighter than usual.</p><p>So much for the hope of sleeping tonight.</p><p>Mark steels himself anyway, offering Jeno an arm to take as they make their way back toward the castle steps together. Ryujin, who’s been lingering just a few paces behind Mark for most of the day, leaves them at the base of the stairs with a nod, trusting Jeno — and Jeno’s sword — to bring Mark back to his chambers safely. It doesn’t surprise him that Jeno’s earned Ryujin’s respect, but it doesn’t stop the little swell of pride in his chest.</p><p>A comfortable silence wraps around them as Jeno escorts him all the way to his door, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles with a murmured “goodnight,” his lips warm even through the glove. Mark rolls his eyes at the playful gleam that Jeno’s gaze holds, flicking the bottom of his chin gently.</p><p>“You need to get some rest too,” he says, the words much softer than he anticipated. “Doyoung will have your head if you’re not awake in time for the meeting.”</p><p>“You say the word ‘too’ like you’re actually going to sleep tonight,” Jeno accuses, but he lets it go anyway. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”</p><p>Mark waits for Jeno to disappear around the corner before finally entering his room and slumping against the door as he closes it behind him. Exhaustion makes his head heavy, but taking off his circlet doesn’t seem to make it any lighter. He places it gently on the bedside table before wandering to the open window, leaning out to bathe comfortably in the cool glow of the moonbeams.</p><p>It’s been distinctly weaker here, but the magic is palpable in the air tonight. If Mark cared more at the moment, he might bother to look into why, but as it is, he simply doesn’t have the energy to spare. Despite keeping Mark awake for unrelentingly large amounts of time, the magic serves to make him feel more at home within his own body, settling his soul down in the depths of his being.</p><p>He just stays there for a moment, leaning on his forearms on the windowsill, taking the pressure of his heels for the first time since the early afternoon when he had tea with Irene. </p><p>It’s peaceful for a while, the ambient noise of the continuing celebration on the other side of the castle drifts in, accompanied by the cicadas’ hum and the gentle breeze. There’s actually a moment where Mark considers trying his hand at going to sleep when he hears a commotion in the hallway just outside of his room.</p><p>He peeks out the door just in time — to his utter distaste — to see Donghyuck carry that woman from earlier into his room. Her skirts are hiked up above her knees, her legs wrapped around Donghyuck’s hips. His hands are roaming her bare skin to ruck up the fabric farther, their lips never disconnecting as Donghyuck kicks the door shut behind them.</p><p>Mark’s sure if he wasn’t wearing gloves, there would be little bleeding crescents on his palms from how hard he just clenched his fists, blood boiling under his skin. He gently closes his own door again, clasping his hands in front of him to keep them from shaking.</p><p>This was supposed to be a civil, political visit. Something friendly to strengthen their alliance. If his knight ends up sleeping with the wrong person, the consequences could be much more dire than either of them could ever hope to anticipate.</p><p>All this does is remind him of his earlier argument with Donghyuck just before he hopped the fence to join the jousting match. Donghyuck claims he doesn’t need Mark’s help now, but there will inevitably come a day where knowing Mark will come in handy for him, and Mark’s name — if not himself physically — will suffer the consequences. In a society where politics are an incredibly intricate game of who can outsmart everyone else while looking innocent and having no visible faults, it’s important that Mark’s reputation remains untarnished with his people. Or, at least no more tarnished than it already is given his magic.</p><p>It doesn’t help that out of all the things Donghyuck can do to get under Mark’s skin, he has to <em> sleep around </em>when he should know good and well what that means to Mark. It’s not that the sex itself doesn’t have an appeal, but it’s the connotation of it that makes in unpalatable.</p><p>Ever since Mark was young, even before his father passed away, even when he was still <em> a child, </em> people of any gender and status would flock to him — the Second Prince blessed with magic by the goddess that created their kingdom — and attempt to use him to get a leg up in the world. Often, that would mean that he was courted sexually for the sake of political gain by the masses, and if it hadn’t been for Taeyong’s constant interventions, Mark’s wholly sure that things wouldn’t have turned out well for him. It’s not that he doubts the objective enjoyment of it, but the political and hierarchical context that it always has gone and always will go along with is enough to make him want to be sick.</p><p>Between that and Mark’s unfortunate inability to let himself love or be loved, there really hasn’t been much for him in the relationship department. He hears the rumors around his own court regarding his habits — or frankly, <em> the lack thereof </em> — and it takes everything he has to turn a deaf ear to it all. </p><p>Mark’s torn out of his thoughts rather unpleasantly at the realization that Donghyuck must have no sense of just how loud he is, because Mark can hear his voice from across the hall, echoes of the filthiest words reaching his ears, drowned out intermittently by the high moans of a woman.</p><p>He grimaces. It’s not worth braving this atrocity for the pretense of sleep.</p><p>Slipping out of his room with ease, he finds his way down the familiar corridors and down a staircase until he reaches the spot he’s looking for: the library.</p><p>He used to spend a lot of time here as a child, sitting on Taeyong’s lap as he struggled through the difficult lexicon that plagues each thick, artistically bound academic manuscript from the highest, dustiest shelves just for the sake of proving that he can. Almost nothing has changed since then. From the configuration of the two huge, worn armchairs that flank the fireplace to the neat rows of bookshelves that span for the entire room, the similarities outweigh any differences by a long shot.</p><p>Mark smiles to himself as he grabs a lantern off the wall, scraping a match on the bricks from the little box on the table by the door to light it. He wishes that he could just snap his fingers and light the fireplace, but sadly even his magic has its limitations.</p><p>As the child of the moon, fire isn’t something he’s meant to play with. That’s reserved for someone else.</p><p>A quick scavenge through the shelves closest to the door gifts Mark a couple of particularly hefty books that he’s sure will last him through the night at the very least. He brings them to a desk by the window that looks out upon the back gardens and dives right in.</p><p>He’s knee deep into the history of the Great Dragon of the North when he hears the floorboards creak behind him. His head swivels around so quickly that his neck cracks. It’s just Jeno standing there, hip cocked against one of the bookshelves, still in his attire from the celebrations earlier, just like Mark.</p><p>“I got the feeling you’d be down here,” Jeno chuckles. “Some things never change, I suppose.”</p><p>“Good evening once again,” Mark greets, smiling. “Long time no see.”</p><p>“I think you should be saying good morning,” he jokes, pushing off the shelf to walk closer, “if it’s not morning by now, I’m sure it will be shortly.”</p><p>Mark hums, gesturing to one of the free chairs nearby before he turns back to his book. He figures Jeno will make himself comfortable, keeping Mark company and most likely falling asleep there before the time Mark is done.</p><p>Instead, the book in his hands disappears and Mark looks up in surprise to see Jeno slipping a spare piece of parchment to keep Mark’s place before closing it. Mark tips his head to meet Jeno’s eye, raising an inquiring eyebrow.</p><p>“We haven’t really had the chance to catch up this week,” he defends. “Can you blame me for wanting to talk to you instead of leaving your nose buried in books like it is most of the time?”</p><p>“I’m not <em> always </em> reading, contrary to popular belief,” Mark huffs, suddenly irked.</p><p>“You’re probably much too busy for that nowadays,” Jeno comments, seating himself down on the arm of the chair across from Mark. “Being king ought to be a lot of work, I’d assume.”</p><p>“I keep myself busy.” Mark taps his fingers on the table. “Exhausting politics, long court sessions, not a lot of sleep, but nothing particularly new.”</p><p>“Is that why you couldn’t sleep tonight? Because of tomorrow’s meeting?”</p><p>“No, no, it’s unrelated.”</p><p>“Your magic?”</p><p>“For once, that isn’t the main factor,” Mark laughs a little bit. Jeno just frowns.</p><p>“Is it because you don’t feel safe, then?” he guesses. “I know that used to be one of the bigger reasons that you couldn’t sleep when you used to visit here. I just figured that having Sir Donghyuck around would help with that.”</p><p>“He’d help more if he didn’t make it a personal mission to have half of your court in his bed in a week,” Mark snorts, tugging at his sleeve as he looks to the side. It doesn’t stop him from being able to tell when Jeno’s frown grows, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.</p><p>“The people of my court are quite respectable, Mark, I don’t like the—”</p><p>“No, no.” Mark shakes his head quickly. “That was a jab at my knight’s behavior, not at the integrity of your court. He can be… promiscuous when not contained, I suppose.” He sighs, meeting Jeno’s gaze. “I don’t have much of a problem with it when he exercises his freedoms around my palace, but it would be nice if he didn’t put my political visits in any sort of jeopardy in case he decides to sleep with the wrong nobility.”</p><p>“This isn’t just a political visit,” Jeno reminds him cautiously, as if the information might make Mark react adversely. “We want you here to catch up because you miss you as a friend and a family member. I hope you know that… right?”</p><p>Mark shrinks into his seat in a rather un-kingly fashion.</p><p>“I <em> do </em> know that, but it’s just tough. I’ve always been trying to do everything right in the eyes of my people, just how my father would’ve done it. They loved him. He always had everything under control and could deal with the worst situations so calmly, but now that the crown’s on my head, it just feels like everything’s just one wrong word away from falling off a cliff and I just— I just don’t know how to do it. I’m trying, Jeno, I’m really trying, but I don’t know if I’m up for all this. I don’t know if I’m really cut out to be the king.”</p><p>Jeno’s already standing up and moving around the table to rub Mark’s back comfortably before he’s even done speaking. Mark digs his chin into his palm, hoping that the low light of the single lantern doesn’t show the glimmer of wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry — he hasn’t in a long time — but his body is doing everything it can to convince him to do it anyway.</p><p>“So, have you had the chance to visit the villages yet? I know you used to love doing that.” Jeno takes the liberty of changing the subject, and Mark is grateful.</p><p>“Unfortunately, not yet.” Mark shakes his head a little harder than he has to, pulling himself together. “There hasn’t been an opportunity, and with the threat of the rogues … well, it was hard enough to convince Jaemin to let me come here at all.”</p><p>“Ah, yeah, that would make sense.” Jeno hums, understanding. “How <em> is </em> Jaemin, by the way? What kind of trouble has he been getting into lately?”</p><p>“Oh, just the usual.” Mark smiles. “Just the other week, Jaemin was down at the barracks with some of the new guards teaching them how to throw knives.”</p><p>“That’s definitely not allowed,” Jeno laughs.</p><p>“Not in the slightest. He wasn’t even <em> trying </em> to hide or act innocent when he was caught. I had to pretend to reprimand him.” Mark shakes his head at the memory. “I think it was worse for me than it was for him.”</p><p>“That sounds about right for him,” Jeno muses, backing up so Mark can stand. Mark stretches his arms before leaning against the table, letting the edge dig into his spine to keep him alert as exhaustion begins to creep in. Despite all the time he spent with Jeno over the course of the week, they hadn’t had a good moment to simply talk about things, free from prying ears and supervising eyes.</p><p>Mark nods absently, “Yeah, and he told me to give you—” Mark cuts himself off, realizing that it’s really not the most appropriate thing to say.</p><p>“To give me what?” Jeno pouts. “Do you have something for me from him that you’ve been withholding?”</p><p>“Nevermind, it’s not important.” Mark tries to wave him off, but Jeno’s as persistent as ever, pushing and pulling until he gets what he wants. It’s a talent, really.</p><p>“It’s important to me, though,” he insists, moving to stand in front of Mark, catching his eye. “What did Jaemin want you to give me?”</p><p>Mark sighs, beleaguered and unable to say no to Jeno. It’s nice to know that nothing’s changed there, at least.</p><p>“He wanted me to give you a kiss,” Mark explains nervously, hoping for nothing more than to skip past this subject entirely, “but I’m sure he was joking, you know how Jaem is, and—”</p><p>“What if he wasn’t joking?” Jeno interjects, and Mark suddenly realizes how close they are, a proximity that’s less than the vaguely friendly one they’ve been so used to keeping. The air in the room grows unbearably warm all of a sudden, or maybe it’s just his cheeks. Mark can’t tell. Jeno takes a step closer, and suddenly Mark can’t breathe at all. “What if I don’t want him to be joking?”</p><p>“Then stop joking and come here.” Mark raises an eyebrow, bracing his hands behind him on the table.</p><p>“Goddess, Mark, you can’t just <em> say that,” </em> Jeno hisses out from between his teeth, shifting his stance, as if holding himself back from taking Mark up on his invitation. That just won’t do.</p><p>“Oh, be quiet, Jeno,” Mark groans, sick of the games they’ve been playing for so long.</p><p>Mark reaches forward then, curling his hand around the back of Jeno’s neck to pull him into a searing kiss. They’re positioned reminiscent of the way Jaemin kissed Mark the night before he departed: pressed back against the table, surrounded by papers and books, but it’s distinctly different.</p><p>While Jaemin kissed like an old lover, Jeno kisses like a gentleman: all gentle, coaxing movements and smooth touches. His hands stay almost painfully polite, resting at the curve of his waist for a fraction of a second before shifting upwards to steady Mark with his palms warming the sides of his ribcage. It’s pleasant, comforting, and Mark certainly isn’t complaining about the way Jeno’s mouth is so soft against his own, testing out the waters of what they’re doing before he dives in deep and Mark’s knees nearly buckle.</p><p>It’s a little irritating now that Jeno’s taller than Mark because he has to tilt his head up just a touch to make eye contact with him in their normal day-to-day activities, but now that they’re kissing it becomes all that much more evident. Mark has to lift his heels off the ground slightly, having to tip his chin as well to compensate for the height difference. When they finally pull apart, Mark makes sure to air his grievance.</p><p>“I can’t believe you ended up being taller than me,” Mark huffs, breath warm against Jeno’s lips. “It makes my neck hurt.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jeno quirks an eyebrow, clearly amused. His hands then become considerably less polite, grasping Mark by the waist and hoisting him up onto the table behind him. Their gazes level out, Mark’s toes not quite able to touch the floor. Jeno smooths his palms down to rest on Mark’s thighs, nudging them apart so he can stand between them. “Better?” he asks. To the untrained ear, it might come off condescending, but Mark can hear the sincerity in his voice, can see the sparkle of concern in his eyes. Jeno’s always been too kind for his own good.</p><p>“Immensely,” Mark assures, tugging Jeno back in by his collar.</p><p>It’s easy to lose track of how long they spend there together, Mark’s only measure of time being how sore his lips are and the slowly tightening grip on his thighs. By the time they part again, Mark has to fold his fingers between Jeno’s carefully to avoid worsening the bruises that are surely already there. Jeno leans back, the smile on his lips telling Mark that he’s probably not going to appreciate what he’s about to say.</p><p>“You know,” he starts, rubbing a thumb just under the cuff of his coat and above the seam of his glove where his skin is exposed. “It’s kind of ironic how you’re so ticked off about Sir Donghyuck sleeping around with my court when you’re here kissing the prince.”</p><p>Mark clenches his jaw, more annoyed by that comment than he’d like to let on, but Jeno can surely see right through him.</p><p>“Jeno…” he draws out in warning, but most of the threat lingering behind his tone dies out when Jeno leans in, dragging his teeth across the soft skin behind the hinge of Mark’s jaw.</p><p>“Jeno,” he sighs, but it’s as his eyes close when Jeno plants a gentle kiss just under his ear; the ghost of the idea of a bruise in the wake of his lips is more than enough to make Mark shiver.</p><p>They both should know better than to leave any visible marks on each other, but the thought of doing something so blatant intrigues the tiny, never-indulged, rebellious side of Mark that he tries to forget exists. Having to be a rule-follower and a precedent has crafted a very specific mold for him to continue to live up to, and Mark’s determined to do just that, but he can’t deny that breaking those rules <em> does </em> tempt him.</p><p>Jeno seems to be on the same wavelength because he pulls back for long enough to wink at Mark before he unbuttons the stiff, high collar of his shirt, rubbing the velvet between his fingers as he peels it off. Mark sucks in a breath, not realizing just how suffocating it was until it’s no longer pressed against his throat. The air hitches in his chest when the gentlest pressure of soft lips attaches to the curve of his jaw, working down the sensitive skin of his neck. He’s sure that bruises will be left in the wake of Jeno’s lips as lips are joined by tongue and teeth, and Mark can’t help but sigh and tilt his head to the side so Jeno has better access.</p><p>The way Jeno’s so attentive to every catch in Mark’s breath, every twitch of his jaw, every flutter of his eyelids, has Mark’s fingers tingling with something familiar. He counts himself lucky that it’s normal for him to wear such stifling attire day to day, otherwise the high collar that will be needed to cover up the litany of bruises Jeno leaves behind might raise a bit of suspicion.</p><p>Mark tucks a finger under Jeno’s chin and directs him back up into a real kiss, one that leaves his chest heaving and his fingers curling into the hair at the base of Jeno’s neck. Neither of them make any sign of slowing down — let alone <em> stopping </em> — until Mark feels a wave of sudden drowsiness and ends up stifling a yawn into their next kiss. Jeno, befittingly, howls with laughter at this, loud enough that Mark has to clamp a hand over his mouth to hush him.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable,” Mark groans, glove still firmly pressed against Jeno’s lips until his shoulders have stopped shaking.</p><p>Jeno simply takes Mark’s fingers with his own, placing a gentle kiss on the palm of his glove. The teasing wink and the quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips lets Mark know that it’s all just to make fun of him. Mark shakes his head, slipping his hand out of Jeno’s grip.</p><p>“What?” Jeno asks, his pout reminiscent of that of a child whose candy got taken away. Mark has to force down the smile that threatens to spread on his lips.</p><p>“We both need rest for tomorrow. Irene wants to have another meeting about the trade routes while I’m still here, and we both need to be cognitively present for that.”</p><p>“Why can’t you just stay longer?” Jeno’s frown grows more serious. “You’re king now, aren’t you?”</p><p>“It’s precisely <em> because </em> I’m king is why I can’t stay here for longer,” Mark sighs. “I have a kingdom to run, Jen. You likely will too, some day.”</p><p>“Oh, <em> goddess, </em> not you too,” Jeno whines. “You know how I feel about that.”</p><p>“Just because you don’t like the fact that you have the responsibility doesn’t mean that you can neglect it,” Mark reminds him gently, running his fingers through his hair, wishing there wasn’t a fabric barrier between his skin and the soft strands. “You’ll be a good leader. Your people adore you, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. You have an eye for keeping people happy in a way that no one else I’ve ever met has possessed.”</p><p>“Except for Jaemin,” Jeno accuses.</p><p>“Except for Jaemin,” Mark amends with a giggle, only half as apologetic as he probably should be. Jeno gives him an odd look, eyebrow raising and lips parting just barely. “What?”</p><p>“Did you just… <em> giggle?” </em> he asks, thumbing over Mark’s cheek.</p><p>“And what of it?” Mark’s always been good at giving non-answers to questions.</p><p>“Who are you and what have you done with my Mark?” Jeno cups Mark’s face, tilting it side to side, examining him as if he’s some sort of foreign object and not a childhood friend. Mark laughs again, batting his touch away gently.</p><p>“We’re both clearly tired,” Mark declares. “Let’s head to sleep.”</p><p>However, Jeno doesn’t make a move to allow Mark the space to slide down from his perch on the table, but Mark doesn’t really give that much of an effort to get himself down anyway. Instead, their heads lean together, noses just brushing. Jeno gives him a pointed look and Mark averts his eyes, giving a beleaguered sigh in return to cover up how the scrutiny makes his cheeks heat up. After a beat, he gives in anyway, tilting his head at just the right angle to leave one more chaste kiss on Jeno’s lips, per his silent request.</p><p>Mark means to back away, he swears he really does. He means to duck out of Jeno’s grip and go back to his bedroom and pretend to get some shut-eye before the maids come fetch him for the meeting in the morning. He means to <em> not </em> melt into Jeno’s arms that encircle his waist, tugging him in until there’s no space left between their chests; he means to <em> not </em> deepen the press of their lips and let out a pleased hum when Jeno does that thing with his tongue, to <em> not </em> loop his arms loosely around Jeno’s neck to keep them close.</p><p>But he does, and it’s fine.</p><p>It’s not like he was going to sleep anyway.</p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck is quite irritated for a number of reasons.</p><p>Firstly, he had to drag himself out of bed before the sun made its first appearance at the horizon for the day. Secondly, he had to leave the warm, naked, nameless body in his bed without so much as a whispered goodbye, knowing he’ll never see them again but still regretting having to leave them in such an impersonal and impolite manner. Thirdly, he now has to mentally prepare himself for another three day long journey with His Majesty, and Donghyuck thinks that he’d honestly rather go through the Knight Trials all over again instead of having to endure this.</p><p>Lastly, Renjun’s been avoiding him all week — quite successfully — and he’s sick of it. At least he’s been avoiding His Majesty, too, from what he could overhear in the king’s whisperings with Jeno.</p><p>Donghyuck has taken every opportunity over the visit to the Northern Kingdom to try and get his attention, to pull him away for just a few moments to exchange some words, but Renjun’s nasty habit of slipping away and being unable to be found for hours has only grown over the years.</p><p>Sir Huang Renjun. Lord Huang Renjun. Young guard-in-training Huang Renjun. Diplomatic envoy Huang Renjun. </p><p>Donghyuck doesn’t even know who he is anymore, and he’s been dying to get some answers after being under the impression that Renjun’s been dead for the better part of five years.</p><p>His quest for answers is what has brought him out into the castle gardens before the moon’s silver glow has been replaced by the sun’s warm rays, remembering Lady Heejin’s helpful note that their southern visitor enjoys walking through the beds of snowlilies as the sun rises each morning. He stands outside, watching the beginnings of pinks and oranges stain the low horizon, stars fading behind their vibrant colors.</p><p>Sure enough, within just a few minutes, the soft tapping of shoes on the cobblestone path drifts above the whistle of the light breeze and Donghyuck perks up, pushing away from where he was leaning against one of the vine-covered walls. He listens carefully as the footsteps pass by on the other side of the tall bushes before he darts out between them and falls into step not too far behind his target. Donghyuck’s own footfalls are much softer, almost inaudible beneath the wind and other ambient morning noise.</p><p>The figure ahead of him rounds a corner, and Donghyuck loses sight of them behind the hedges but continues after them without hesitating. He’s cautious as he takes the same corner, and it turns out to be for good reason when he’s yanked to the side, knife pressed against his throat. Donghyuck just finds himself smiling, not a touch of fear in his system.</p><p>“Good morning, Renjun,” he greets. “Nice to know you haven’t changed.”</p><p>“You insolent idiot,” Renjun hisses, releasing him with enough force to make Donghyuck stumble away. “You know better than to try and sneak up on me.”</p><p>“Who says I was trying to sneak up on you?” Donghyuck asks, spinning around. Renjun raises an eyebrow, unimpressed as he reaches back behind him to sheath his knife at the small of his back, but it just makes Donghyuck’s smile grow. “Can I join you for your walk?”</p><p>Renjun looks apprehensive for a moment, hesitating for just long enough for Donghyuck to grow curious about it before he nods, looping his hand through the crook of Donghyuck’s elbow that he offers out. They don’t speak as they stroll through the gardens, Donghyuck noting how the moonflowers still add splashes of color among the expansive beds of snowlilies, thriving in their new environment. Renjun will talk when he’s ready, and Donghyuck can only hope that time will come before he has to leave this morning.</p><p>The sun creeps higher into the sky, inky darkness of night giving way to a brilliant array of colors. Donghyuck has seen thousands of sunrises in his lifetime already, but the one he bears witness to that morning in the Northern Kingdom — surrounded by beds of moonflowers and snowlilies, arm linked with an old comrade, magentas and golds spilling across the sky — is easily one of the most beautiful.</p><p>Renjun leads them off the path, pushing aside a curtain of leaves to bring them under one of the ancient willow trees in the back of the gardens, hiding them from any possible prying eyes.</p><p>“I’m sure you have questions,” Renjun begins, pulling his arm back from Donghyuck slowly as he turns to look him in the eye.</p><p>“You could say that,” Donghyuck snorts.</p><p>“Ask away, then,” he invites, and something about his tone pisses Donghyuck off.</p><p>“Where the hell have you been for five years?” The elephant in the room is finally addressed. “I thought you were killed in that skirmish by the border. We all did. We all <em> mourned, </em>Renjun.”</p><p>“I thought I was killed too, at least for a while,” he admits. “I woke up in the middle of a field with blood all over my face and hands. I was picked up by a farmer on his way back from trading at one of the western village markets, and he brought me to his home in the south. Minghao fed and clothed and bathed me, taught me how to speak the farmer’s dialect out there, taught me how to work in the fields.”</p><p>“So you never came back because you decided that the domestic farm life was for you all of a sudden?” Donghyuck interjects. “What happened to all those stories about adventure and battles that you used to love.”</p><p>“I was in love with the idea of them, not the reality,” Renjun admits, pacing a bit. Donghyuck huffs, but gestures for him to continue with his story. There’s so much that he still needs to know, but he already has a feeling that Renjun’s leaving things out. “And as much as I loved it there on the farm, I couldn’t stay. So I left for the capitol and trained to become one of the king’s knights. Even when I finished my training and was knighted, Kun found more value in my intellect than in my sword, so he gave me the title of Lord and I became one of his advisors.”</p><p>Donghyuck wants to believe Renjun. He wants to make this easy and just know that he’s telling the truth, but he can’t. The story is just a touch too vague, leaving too many gaps in time where — if Renjun were being honest — he’d gush about the smallest of details and recount stories of his best and worst days. Donghyuck is just stuck wondering <em> why </em> Renjun’s lying to him, and if it’s because of him or if Renjun has other motives.</p><p>In a split second, he makes the choice to not call Renjun out on it, to just act like he took the bait so he can move onto other subjects without raising Renjun’s high-walled defenses.</p><p>“It’s always nice to hear that your king values you,” Donghyuck comments. “I’d assume life isn’t too bad for you, then?”</p><p>“It’s enjoyable, I make it by,” Renjun confirms. “How about for you? How’s the palace life treating you in the West?”</p><p>“Could be worse.” Donghyuck tries to avoid the question, but Renjun isn’t having it.</p><p>“You and Mark don’t quite see eye to eye on things, do you?” he guesses. Donghyuck loathes how spot-on he is. “His opinions don’t always match your morals, you hate most of the decisions he makes, and you hate not only the way he thinks, but <em> what </em> he thinks. Especially about you.”</p><p>Renjun’s taking most of this straight from how they treated each other during childhood, the petty, one-sided arguments that they’d have because Mark wasn’t allowed to fight back and acted as Donghyuck’s verbal punching bag for the monarchy as a whole. Whatever damage he may have caused certainly hasn’t stopped Mark from growing up to be just like his father. Donghyuck hates to think that he had hope for Mark at one point — that he’d turn out to be different, to be <em> better. </em></p><p>“His Majesty is a spoiled, childish <em> prat </em> and I couldn’t give any less of a damn about what he thinks,” Donghyuck scoffs.</p><p>“You don’t really think that,” Renjun states, as if he knows Donghyuck’s mind better than Donghyuck himself does, which is entirely possible, even after all this time. “You don’t despise him nearly as much as you let yourself believe you do.”</p><p>“Oh really?” Donghyuck crosses his arms, looking down at Renjun. He’s being petulant, sure, but it allows him to hide other emotions beneath the facade.</p><p>“He’s the only one with enough power to make you kneel, and now that he’s learning to wield it, you’re scared.”</p><p>“I’m not scared of him,” Donghyuck denies, getting increasingly annoyed at how Renjun sees right through every blockade he puts up.</p><p>“You’re not scared of Mark,” Renjun says. “You’re scared of what he could do to you.”</p><p>“I do not fear His Majesty nor do I fear his power,” Donghyuck growls, pressing forward until he has Renjun backed up against the trunk of the willow tree, their faces so close that their noses nearly brush. “Even calling what I feel ‘respect’ is stretching it.”</p><p>“What <em> would </em> you call it then?”</p><p>“Understandable apprehension.”</p><p>Renjun rolls his eyes, ducking out from under Donghyuck’s grasp fast enough that he can’t stop him.</p><p>“You won’t even say his <em> name, </em> Donghyuck,” he retorts, expression nearing something disdainful. “You can’t tell me there’s not a bit of fear hiding in there.” He pokes at Donghyuck’s chest, right above his heart.</p><p>“It’s not fear,” he reiterates, but Renjun just scoffs.</p><p>“Then what is it? Jealousy?” he accuses. Donghyuck flinches, and Renjun preys on the reaction. “You’re jealous of him? Of his status and power? That’s what this is?”</p><p>“Those are some harsh accusations you’re throwing around with no evidence,” he refutes, not rising to the bait.</p><p>“Oh, spare me.” Renjun rolls his eyes. “You <em> reek </em> of jealousy.”</p><p>“What does that even <em> mean?” </em> Donghyuck throws his hands up in the air, mind running a million miles a minute to change the topic before Renjun actually ends up making a correct assumption and Donghyuck accidentally shows his ass. “Besides, even if I <em> was </em> jealous, which I’m <em> not, </em> His Majesty wouldn’t be the one I was jealous of.”</p><p>“Who would it be then, assuming this is all hypothetical anyway,” Renjun prompts, entertaining Donghyuck’s less than discreet turn of the conversation.</p><p>“Jaemin.”</p><p>The name makes Renjun reel back in surprise. Donghyuck wonders if he forgot about Jaemin — if he forgot about <em> Donghyuck. </em></p><p>“Jaemin,” he repeats softly, as if not believing it.</p><p>“He was the one who always got to kiss you when we were younger.”</p><p>“That’s because you were always too busy arguing with the second prince.” Renjun continues to allow this train of conversation, which speaks volumes to what’s actually going on inside his head. Donghyuck’s always been good at reading people, but Renjun and Mark are the two he could never get a grasp on, and it’s irked him for years.</p><p>“And now Jaemin’s off kissing him, too,” Donghyuck adds as casually as he can to gauge Renjun’s reaction.</p><p>“Jaemin and Mark?” He doesn’t look quite as surprised as Donghyuck expected. “Really?”</p><p>“They’re not half as subtle as they think they are,” Donghyuck drawls.</p><p>“The Western King of all people?” Renjun muses, more to himself than to Donghyuck. “I’d always assumed…”</p><p>“Assumed what?” Donghyuck prompts when Renjun doesn’t go on.</p><p>“Nothing. It’s not a worry now,” he dismisses. “It’s possible that he’s changed his opinions on such matters by now. We’ve all grown up a bit since we were last together.”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Donghyuck hums, stepping closer. “Speaking of growing up… we certainly have, haven’t we?”</p><p>“Is this your convoluted way of asking to kiss me?” Renjun shoots back, unimpressed, but Donghyuck’s undeterred. With the way Renjun’s eyes flick around, moving anywhere to not meet Donghyuck’s gaze, how he bites his lip and a blush paints over the bridge of his nose, it’s not hard to tell that Renjun’s words and his actions tell very different truths of what he wants.</p><p>“I think a kiss from you is long overdue, so may I have the pleasure of kissing the great Huang Renjun?”</p><p>“Oh, what a gentleman,” he bites back, “asking before taking what he thinks is his.”</p><p>“Now, now,” Donghyuck replies, never losing his smile, “everything I do is consensual and don’t you think otherwise.”</p><p>“I don’t want to be another one of you conquests,” Renjun sneers, tearing himself away so he doesn’t have to face Donghyuck.</p><p>“Conquest implies that you lose, that you give up,” Donghyuck says, unperturbed by Renjun’s steely exterior. “That’s not really your style.”</p><p>“I’m not going to fight you, though.”</p><p>“Good.” Donghyuck nods once. “You’d lose.”</p><p>“Who had a knife to whose throat not minutes ago?” Renjun sends a pointed glance back over his shoulder, but Donghyuck just laughs.</p><p>“I let that happen.”</p><p>Renjun scowls and feels around at his back before a look of surprise crosses his features. It quickly turns into annoyance when he spots what dangles from between Donghyuck’s fingers dangerously.</p><p>“Looking for this?” Donghyuck flips the knife in his palm, eyeing Renjun who just crosses his arms with a huff, clearly fighting to not let the corners of his mouth twitch upward. He’d snatched the blade from him earlier when he had him backed against the tree. “You know… lords aren’t supposed to carry weapons on diplomatic visits.”</p><p>“Jaemin never paid attention to that.”</p><p>“Jaemin wasn’t a lord when you knew him, and his father barely was,” Donghyuck tosses back, pausing before he adds on, “and it doesn’t seem that you are, either.”</p><p>That quiets Renjun down surprisingly fast. Donghyuck is smug; it was a bit of a shot in the dark, if he’s being honest, but his words seem to have hit spot on.</p><p>“How did you know?” Renjun hisses.</p><p>“Observations,” Donghyuck says easily. “You still walk like a trained soldier, you have more knowledge of the battlefield tactics surrounding the Bronze City than you do possible economic ones, and no matter how close you are with Prince Jeno, there’s no way the Northern Kingdom would’ve let you in if they knew you’re a knight.”</p><p><em> “Was </em> a knight,” Renjun spits, furious for reasons that Donghyuck is quite eager to understand. “Not anymore.”</p><p>“Get stripped of your title?” Donghyuck prods, knowing that if he pushes just a little bit further, Renjun might actually tell him a bit of the truth.</p><p>“Honorably discharged,” Renjun snaps. “It was just a little clash near the eastern border, nothing a few of us couldn’t take care of… it went awry… the injuries sustained…” he trails off, eyes unfocusing for a moment before he seems to return to his own body. He flexes his fingers. “Something I couldn’t bounce back from.”</p><p>“What do you mean <em> ‘us?’” </em> Donghyuck asks. “Who were you with?”</p><p>“No one.” Renjun clams up, and Donghyuck knows he’s pushed too far, but he’s willing to try his luck once more.</p><p>“Care to explain what happened at least?”</p><p>“Not particularly.”</p><p>“Then what do—”</p><p>Donghyuck doesn’t get to finish his question before Renjun curls his fingers into Donghyuck’s hair and yanks him down into a searing kiss that nearly takes his breath away, stumbling into Renjun’s chest. He doesn’t even get the time to enjoy anything before Renjun pulls back, his grip in Donghyuck’s hair tightening.</p><p>“You ask too many questions,” he whispers. “Don’t pry into things that you don’t want the answers to.”</p><p>“But I <em> do </em> want to know.”</p><p>“Then stop wanting,” Renjun replies, as if it’s that easy.</p><p>“You know I can’t do that. You know how I work.” Donghyuck taps his temple with one hand, splaying the other over the dip of Renjun’s waist. “I want something, I work until I get it.”</p><p>“That explains how you’ve bedded half the northern court already,” he snorts. “You haven’t changed a bit.”</p><p>“What are you implying?”</p><p>“That you want Mark’s attention.”</p><p>“Your turn to shut up,” Donghyuck proclaims before swooping down to kiss Renjun again.</p><p>There’s nothing romantic about it in the slightest — all bruising pressure and tongue and teeth and fierceness that translates from their verbal argument into their movements. That doesn’t mean it feels any less good, though. Renjun’s all warmth and swift movements, nipping and suckling somewhere and moving on to another spot before Donghyuck has the chance to catch him and pin him down. The thrill of the chase, the gratification of getting something out of hard work; they’re both familiar with it and they both get drunk off of it through the kiss. It takes just about everything Donghyuck has in him to pull back, too many thoughts still drifting around his mind.</p><p>“What about Jeno, then?” Donghyuck asks, relishing in the blooming pink on Renjun’s cheeks.</p><p>“What about him?” Renjun replies, almost adorably confused.</p><p>“Are we just supposed to ignore the way you look at him? The way <em> he </em> looks at <em> you?” </em></p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renjun denies, but it’s just a little too quick. “He looks at me the same way he looks at Mark.”</p><p>“Exactly.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Haven’t you noticed? They’ve been flirting all week, it’s actually kind of sickening. They even left the dance together last night and—” A thought dawns upon Donghyuck, and he gets a wicked grin. “Were you too busy avoiding Mark to be able to tell?”</p><p>“I’m not avoiding Mark.” Another denial, another lie. At least a semi-lie.</p><p>“You’re avoiding speaking to him, just like you were avoiding speaking to me until I had to hunt you down.” Donghyuck squeezes his side, and Renjun gasps. “Or were you just avoiding Jeno, and then Mark by extension?”</p><p>“I think that’s enough from you.” Renjun shakes his head, pushing at Donghyuck’s chest to get some space between them. “I have a meeting this morning to make an appearance at.”</p><p>“The one this morning?” Donghyuck asks. He glances back, noting how high the sun already is in the sky with a wince. He lost track of time. How long had they been here? “Isn’t it a bit late for that?”</p><p>“Of course it is,” Renjun states, brushing imaginary specks off of his shoulders, “but it’s an excuse to get away from you, so I’m going to pretend it’s not. I highly recommend you do the same if you don’t want to be left behind.”</p><p>Donghyuck can only let out a breathy laugh of incredulity at that, letting Renjun duck out from under his arm and give him a sunny smile. Before he can stop himself, Donghyuck reaches out to pluck a stray leaf from Renjun’s hair. It reminds him that his own styling was probably just thoroughly ruined by Renjun’s fingers, and he should have the decency to fix it before he arrives at the carriage. However, it’s significantly more tempting to see the annoyance break through Mark’s usually cold, stony facade when he sees his messy hair and bruised lips.</p><p>He breaks himself out of his thoughts with a smile as he realizes Renjun’s already walking away. He knows he’s not going to get any further information out of him today, but he also knows that this won’t be the last time they run into each other. Something in his gut tells him they’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.</p><p>“The winds are changing, Donghyuck,” Renjun calls out of the blue, startling him. “You need to decide whether to change with them or not.”</p><p>“What the hell is <em> that </em> supposed to mean?” Donghyuck can’t deny that he’s unnerved at the light tone Renjun adopts with such cryptic words, but he does his best not to let it show. The less Renjun can read into him right now, the better.</p><p>“Everyone has their secrets,” he replies simply, smiling with a small shake of his head, “even you.”</p><p>“You’re such a <em> cryptid, </em> Injun,” Donghyuck laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll see you around, then?”</p><p>All he receives in return is a wave over his shoulder as Renjun moves the leaves of the willow aside to leave. The greenery swishes closed resolutely behind him, far too much like a closing door for Donghyuck’s liking, and Donghyuck lets his forehead rest against the trunk of the tree in an attempt to collect his thoughts. </p><p>He’s not an imbecile; he knows Renjun is hiding something — most likely something big, a something that would explain how he survived all those years ago when Donghyuck’s entire regiment presumed him dead a something that causes him to shift foot to foot, antsy like he has to be ready to take flight at a moment’s notice, a something that he’s unnervingly keen on hiding from Donghyuck, but the same something that Donghyuck’s now determined to pry from him.</p><p> </p><p>⭒☾⭒</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck makes his first public appearance of the morning with swollen lips and messy hair, fully aware of just how bad that looks. Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes before the hour the departure is supposed to take place, and everyone’s exhausted — too exhausted to comment on Donghyuck’s state.</p><p>Not even Mark, when he finally strides out of the castle’s main doors, Crown Prince Jeno on his arm and dark circles beneath his eyes, makes a move to say anything about Donghyuck’s appearance despite the very clear opportunity for it. Donghyuck decides to take the small victory and stand by the door of the prepped carriage, waiting for Mark to finish his goodbyes.</p><p>Mark gives High King Doyoung and Queen Irene polite hugs, wraps Ten in a slightly less stiff one, and proceeds to leave the softest of kisses on both Jeno and Mina’s cheeks. Donghyuck doesn’t really know what to make of that last part. Then again, he doesn’t really care, and he lets his mind move onto other things. Mark then pauses, looking around for a moment, confused and a little distraught before murmuring something to Jeno and Mina. They both share the same look of sudden confusion, glancing around the courtyard curiously. Jeno whispers something back, but Mark pastes a smile on his face and waves him off courteously.</p><p>Donghyuck wonders if he’s looking for Renjun.</p><p>“It’s alright…” Mark is saying, the light breeze carrying his voice, “...meet again soon, I hope?”</p><p>Jeno waits until Mark is finished speaking before pulling him into another tight hug, pressing his lips to the top of Mark’s head and letting them linger there just a second longer than what’s strictly necessary — and that’s operating under the assumption that it’s necessary in the first place, to which Donghyuck would argue that it wasn’t. When Mark finally does pry himself out of Jeno’s grasp and turn toward the carriage, Donghyuck doesn’t greet him with anything more than the barest of a head incline. He isn’t sure if that’s the reason Mark doesn’t acknowledge him at all as he climbs into the carriage, but Donghyuck really doesn’t feel like asking.</p><p>As soon as Mark is settled, Donghyuck does a double check with the rest of the guards — Ryujin giving him a nod from her position up front — and then ducks in after, shutting the door behind him.</p><p>It’s almost comical, really, how quickly Mark buries his nose back in a book once Jeno’s out of sight, moving onto the next most interesting thing to take up his time. He’s clearly not eager to speak to Donghyuck, and it’s not like Donghyuck’s jumping at the chance for conversation with His Majesty either. The Northern Kingdom fades from sight over the horizon, and they’re back in the bare planes on the road back west.</p><p>No more words than necessary are exchanged between the two of them over the ride, Mark having curtly explained that the books were something of a coronation gift from the royal family since they couldn’t make it themselves, and that’s that. Donghyuck merely nods, although aware that Mark is neither looking nor does he care, and goes back to eyeing what has to be one of the thickest books he’s ever seen, open in Mark’s lap, detailing the expansive lore and history of the North.</p><p>They relapse back into silence. The only sounds inside the carriage are that of a page turn now and then, the rustle of Mark’s cloak when he moves positions, and the clink of chainmail when Donghyuck shifts a certain way.</p><p>The first stop on the journey leaves Mark trying to sneak out again, but Donghyuck is ready this time, standing there outside Mark’s tent with a blanket in hand. He knew this was going to happen, and by the looks of Mark’s resigned expression, so did he.</p><p>“Your Majesty, if you’re going to sleep on the ground, at least take a blanket.” He offers the blanket hooked over his arm out to Mark, reveling in the flash of surprise in his expression cooling off to something much closer to resentment. What surprises Donghyuck, though, is the way Mark gingerly plucks the blanket from his arms anyway and stays outside.</p><p>There’s little in this world that can beat his sheer stubbornness, but Donghyuck is now determined to figure out what he has to do to break through that annoying kingly facade. It ought to be a fun little game to play.</p><p>Hours later, he begins to rethink the idea of the game. Although he supposes he does deserve this in some capacity — having to sit awake through the cold night to keep an eye on Mark — it doesn’t make him any less irritated and uncomfortable. His one saving grace is that Mark is still awake too, eyes open, staring straight up at the clear, starry sky. It’s not difficult to tell that Mark wants to order him to leave him in peace, but he’s wisely wary of the other precautions Donghyuck might take if he himself doesn’t watch over him.</p><p>It does come as a bit of a surprise when Mark doesn’t sleep at all, showing no signs of drooping eyelids or slowed breathing. His dark circles sink deeper and his fingers comb through the grass at his sides periodically, but he stays awake, full moon reflecting off his eyes, matching the almost-inhuman silver color of his irises that’s already there. A thought strikes him as that little detail sinks in.</p><p>The moon might have to do with Mark’s inability to sleep, if the moon being full is the equivalent to trying to sleep in the blinding light of the midday sun for him. The power Mark holds only serves to keep him awake at times like this, barely staving off the exhaustion that must be plaguing him by now. It’s a theory that his mind ponders for the remainder of the night, curious about the logistics of Mark’s magic and what else he can do other than make flowers grow because, as far as Donghyuck knows, that’s all anyone’s ever seen him do in public.</p><p>He’s well-aware of the public’s poorly hidden distaste for the magic, though, so Donghyuck doesn’t really blame Mark for not showing it off. He doubts he’d do it anyway, though. It’s just irritating because he truly has no grasp on just how powerful Mark is, and it makes him feel like he’s being stuck in the middle of a war with no armor, no weapon, blindfolded, and hands tied behind his back. He’s at a disadvantage right now, and the moment Mark realizes this… Donghyuck dreads to think of the consequences.</p><p>So, he doesn’t. He simply lets his mind drift back to other things as he sits there in the darkness of the night, watching the stars overhead while never becoming unaware of Mark’s soft breathing not too far away. It’s a long night.</p><p>The moment the sky begins to show hints of brightening, Mark’s fully awake and alert, packing up his own things instead of just delegating to one of the guards. They get as early of a start as they can, not trying to prolong this trip along these dangerous parts any longer than they have to. The sooner they’re out of the territory where the rogues have been spotted, the sooner Donghyuck can relax.</p><p>The second night is just as long and tense, but Donghyuck ends up dozing off at a couple points. Every time he snaps himself awake, Mark’s still there, unmoving and still not sleeping. Donghyuck idly wonders if he’s really a human under all that gaudy, pretentious exterior. Probably not.</p><p>As always, the final day of travel is the worst on them all. Even the horses seem to be going just a little bit slower through the sticky summer heat despite being given food and water regularly, and it only serves to realize that the third day isn’t going to be as short as they intended.</p><p>It’s nearing midday by the time the moon finally disappears out of the sky. Donghyuck only realizes this because one moment, Mark’s doing perfectly fine, and the next he’s barely able to keep his eyes open, the grip on his book slipping. Donghyuck’s hypothesis on the moon keeping Mark awake receives another piece of evidence to back it.</p><p>Donghyuck also gets the feeling that Mark struggles to find peace within his own mind as well and — its relation to the moon’s effects notwithstanding — it can’t be aiding him in the slightest. He doesn’t know what keeps Mark’s mind up and running so much, but Donghyuck can only hope for the moon goddess’ sake that it’s not her because Donghyuck already has a novel full of reasons to smack her when they meet eventually.</p><p>Mark’s movements become sluggish as the sun climbs higher in the sky, and he nearly drops the heavy book when the carriage jolts over a bump because of how badly his grip is slipping. It seems to wake him up, though, and he actively ignores the odd look Donghyuck throws at him by burying his nose between the pages once more.</p><p>It only takes a little longer, but at some blessed point, Mark does finally doze off. Granted, it’s in a terribly uncomfortable-looking position and Donghyuck winces just thinking about how sore Mark’s neck will be after sleeping for an extended period of time like that.</p><p>Donghyuck lets his head fall back against the wall of the carriage with a drawn out sigh. He curses himself once for caring, a second time for going soft, and a third time for caring again — just for good measure. He reaches across the carriage, closing the heavy book precariously balanced on Mark’s legs and taking it to place on the seat next to him. He slides across then, settling into the space between Mark and the window before using just the tips of his fingers to lean Mark’s head over onto his own shoulder.</p><p>Attention back out the window, Donghyuck almost forgets about Mark there. Hours go by, and despite the occasional readjusting of their positioning that Donghyuck has to do, he mostly just sits still in the blissful silence as Mark sleeps the day away on his shoulder. The endless grasslands give way back to dark green coniferous forests, telling Donghyuck they can’t be more than a half-day’s ride from the palace, and they should be able to make it through the gates before nightfall. Rogues more commonly strike under the cover of darkness, as Donghyuck knows by experience, and as long as they make it back before the sun sinks below the horizon, they should be okay. It’s doubtful that anyone would try and attack during broad daylight.</p><p>Late afternoon trickles in, the sunlight turning a burnished golden as it slinks through the window slowly, covering everything in its honey-like embrace. It becomes muted and peaceful, and Donghyuck lets himself relax a little bit, enjoying the warmth that the sun spreads across his face. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.</p><p>There’s no disturbance, no jolt of the carriage, no shift of Donghyuck’s shoulders, but Mark startles awake, head jerking off of Donghyuck’s shoulder so he can sit upright, breathing suddenly audible and labored in opposed to how quiet it’d been earlier. Donghyuck’s awoken to his fair share of adrenaline rushes and night terrors; they’re never pleasant, and they never get any easier, no matter how many times it happens. The panic on Mark’s face gives way to confusion after a long moment as he regains his bearings in the world, and he slowly turns his head to face Donghyuck curiously.</p><p>“Why are you…?” Mark gestures vaguely, still sleepy and not quite fully functioning yet.</p><p>“You were going to hurt yourself trying to rest the way you were, and your mood only becomes more foul when you’re hurting.”</p><p>Mark appears as if he’s about to protest that, but a yawn seemingly erases the words on the tip of his tongue. He frowns, clearly trying to remember, and his frustration only grows as the words won’t come to him. Donghyuck wonders if this is the moment that Mark realizes he hasn’t slept a wink for at least a couple of days before this little nap, and this is how the exhaustion is manifesting itself.</p><p>“Go back to sleep,” Donghyuck urges with a gentleness that throws even himself off for a moment — something tender beneath the surface of his words that hasn’t been used in a long time. “You need it.”</p><p>Donghyuck waits for Mark to try and talk his way out of it, out of being cared for and protected, with that touch of venom like he always has with Donghyuck. Instead, surprising them both, Mark seals his mouth into a thin line. He’s choosing his battles, and it’s wise to not pick this one. While Mark’s distracted being sullen, Donghyuck takes off the armor on that shoulder, leaving leather and cloth exposed in its stead. It’s uncommon to wear armor for long journeys like this, but Donghyuck’s had a dark feeling about this trip stirring in his stomach from the beginning, and he’d rather take the precaution and suffer through the discomfort than not be prepared.</p><p>There’s a tentative weight on his shoulder, and Donghyuck has to force himself not to look over as Mark settles his precious head down carefully. It’s the first move of camaraderie Donghyuck’s experienced from Mark, and staring at him point blank while he does it most likely isn’t the best move.</p><p>“Uh,” Donghyuck clears his throat. “Do you—” he starts to ask, but Mark tiredly swatting at his arm cuts him short. He has a surprising amount of strength hidden under that suffocatingly prude royal attire that he insists upon wearing for whatever reason.</p><p>“Silence, my knight.” The words are almost slurred out with exhaustion. It’s an order, albeit a sleepy one, so Donghyuck shifts just barely so Mark’s neck is angled more comfortably, and stays quiet.</p><p>Mark dozes right off, breathing evening out once more, and this time Donghyuck can’t stop himself from looking over. He takes a moment to admire just how well Mark has grown up from the scrawny boy that used to hide behind his father’s legs and grip his older brother’s hand with white knuckles when the royals visited the barracks.</p><p>His frame has filled out as he’s grown into his body, but he’s still mostly skin and bones beneath all of those expensive fabrics. It’s not hard to tell when his sleeves catch or the hem of his pants ride up, exposing delicate wrists and ankles that Donghyuck’s sure would snap with more than a poke of pressure applied. His eyes move on to trace where the chubbiness of youth melted away to reveal a jawline as sharp as the blade in Donghyuck’s sheath, and cheekbones that have no right to be as high and defined as they are.</p><p>All things considered, King Mark of the Western Kingdom is handsome in a way not many people are. Donghyuck might even venture as far as to say he’s beautiful, but he’d never be caught dead admitting that thought aloud. Mark truly must be blessed by the moon goddess herself because there’s no other possible explanation for someone being this irritatingly attractive.</p><p>Not even the purpled hollows beneath his eyes and the few glittering, silver hairs interspersed with his dark locks that both make him look so worn down by the immense pressure on his young shoulders can retract from his looks.</p><p>Donghyuck sighs, moving his gaze back out the window once more.</p><p>If only Mark wasn’t such an insufferable, arrogant brat. Then, Donghyuck might actually stand a fighting chance of getting along with his king. Unfortunately, looks can only go so far, he supposes.</p><p>A jolt of the carriage leaves a puff of Mark’s hair falling over his forehead, tempting Donghyuck to reach over and brush it away. His hand is outstretched already when he hears a faint commotion outside. At first he assumes it’s the guards on horseback outside joking around, but a nagging thought in the back of his mind tells him otherwise. He leans forward a bit, trying to catch the words that are being tossed around outside, but he doesn’t get the chance to distinguish any of them properly before an arrow whizzes through the window of the carriage, breaking the glass.</p><p>Before Donghyuck can even think, he’s turning around to curl his body over Mark’s protectively: an instinct he couldn’t have stopped even if he tried. Mark startles awake with a gasp somewhere between the arrow embedding itself in the far wall of the carriage and Donghyuck putting his hands on either side of Mark’s head to protect him from the rain of glass that clinks off of Donghyuck’s armor harmlessly.</p><p>Mark isn’t given time to react before Donghyuck is handling him to lay down on the carriage seat, as far out of sight from the windows as he can get. Donghyuck yanks the arrow out of the wall turning it over in his hands to examine it. It’s crudely made: nothing more than a shaven stick lashed to a carved stone arrowhead with some string. The misshapen feathers on the back end let Donghyuck know that it can’t fly very straight, and Donghyuck deduces that whoever shot this more than likely wasn’t aiming for the carriage window and just got a lucky shot in.</p><p>That theory goes a little shaky when another arrow flies through the open gap where the glass has been, almost spearing Mark straight through if Donghyuck hadn’t turned around in time to see it coming and gone to throw himself over Mark again, the arrow glancing off of his chestplate harmlessly.</p><p>Mark’s terrified; it’s easy to tell with his wide eyes and quick, shallow breaths. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just gives Donghyuck a pointed look, as if to remind him that this isn’t his realm of expertise and he doesn’t know what to do — Mark may be a great strategist, but he’s not a fighter. Not like Donghyuck is.</p><p>He’s putting his faith in Donghyuck in a time of crisis despite their numerous personal differences; he’s choosing to trust Donghyuck because the smartest decision he can make is to let someone else more experienced in this make the decisions; he’s putting his life in Donghyuck’s hands because frankly, he has no other choice, and Donghyuck isn’t going to betray that.</p><p>There’s not another second of hesitation before Donghyuck stands up in the still-moving carriage, looking out the glass-less window to try and glimpse what they’re up against here. Unfortunately, they’re built for a political visit, not a battle, so their resources are somewhat limited. The only upside to this is that they’d known about the threat ahead of time, so they’re a touch better equipped than they would’ve been otherwise.</p><p>Bandits are coming out of the forest, pouring out of the treeline: at least a dozen on horseback, and another handful on foot behind them. Donghyuck checks the other side of the path to find it completely clear. Not too far ahead, a path branches off the main road into a forest, and Donghyuck remembers that Ryujin is from around these parts and can guide them.</p><p>Before a plan can fully form in his mind, the carriage jolts and careens off the side of the road, crashing into a ditch. Donghyuck dives to pull Mark into his chest, taking the brunt of the fall with his back as the carriage upturns, the two of them still inside. The world spins for a moment, Donghyuck trying to orient himself as soon as he can, sitting Mark up and checking him over for injuries — which he thankfully has none of.</p><p>Unprompted, Donghyuck unlatches Mark’s cloak where it’s fastened at the base of his throat, tossing it to the side in a heap. To Mark’s credit, he doesn’t object, looking confused, but for once not angry. He parts his lips, probably to ask why, but Donghyuck doesn’t have the time to entertain the king’s questions, no matter how relevant they may be.</p><p>Donghyuck takes off his own armored chestplate and slips it onto Mark, making sure it’s secure before kicking the door to the carriage open, making it fly off of its hinges. He motions for Mark to stay put as he peeks out, seeing the carriage driver with an arrow between his eyes, blood pooling behind his head. Other than that, it looks to be clear, and it’s better to move right now than to stay put in plain sight. They’ll have better luck if they can make it to the forest on the other side.</p><p>“Your Majesty, I need you to follow me very closely,” Donghyuck instructs, hopping out of the carriage and offering a hand to help Mark out after him. Mark simply nods, letting Donghyuck grip his gloved hand to offer leverage so he can climb out. It’s smooth, Mark still not lacking his usual grace and dignity even in times of crisis — something Donghyuck finds himself begrudgingly respecting.</p><p>“Donghyuck!” Ryujin’s whispered shout makes his head whip around to where she’s clambering off of her horse. “What is the king doing out of the carriage? He can’t be out in the open like this—”</p><p>“It’s more likely that he’ll die trying to hunker down in it than if we try and get him out of here,” Donghyuck says, fighting to keep his voice calm despite the rush in his ears and the jitters in his fingertips. Ryujin peeks up over the fallen carriage, grimacing as she drops down, an arrow flying right where her head has been.</p><p>“We’re outnumbered. Badly,” she says. “We need a plan and we need it fast.”</p><p>“You know your way around these parts, right?” Donghyuck asks, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Ryujin nods. “So take His Majesty through the forest paths to the east, lose anyone that might be following you, and loop back around to head west through one of the villages. Stay close to communities if you can; they’re less likely to strike when they don’t have the numerical advantage.”</p><p>“What about you?” Ryujin asks, peeking up once more. “The rest of the men are stalling them, but we don’t have a lot of time.”</p><p>“Then let’s move,” he commands, taking Mark by the elbow and keeping himself between the bandits and their presumed target as they stay low and move to Ryujin’s horse. “I’ll stay back with the rest of the guards, fight them off and keep them from following you as best I can. We need to buy you two time more than anything. We’re just a few hours’ ride from the outermost parts of the kingdom.”</p><p>“You’re his knight, you should stay with him,” Ryujin argues, trying to hand the reins to Donghyuck, but he pushes them back to her.</p><p>“His Majesty has a much lower chance of getting out safely if I take him. I don’t know my way around these parts that well, but you grew up here. You know the ins and outs of the area and can lose the bandits if any of them slip through.”</p><p>Ryujin looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t — she doesn’t have the time to discuss this, and they all know it. She’s a good soldier and knows when she hears an order, so she swings herself up onto her stallion. Before she can offer a hand to help Mark get up, he pulls himself up right after her, looping his arms around her torso to keep himself steady.</p><p>There’s no time to spare, so Donghyuck whacks the horse’s rear as Ryujin spurs it on with her heels, and they’re off. Mark only looks back once, and it’s when he’s still close enough for Donghyuck to identify the panic and fear in his gaze before he turns back forward once more, and Donghyuck has to force himself to look away, spinning on his heel and clearing his mind to focus on the task at hand: buying as much time as he can.</p><p>He goes back to the carriage, trying not to look at the bloodied grass around where the driver had sprawled across the grass at the end of his fall, instead working on unhooking the four trapped horses. He lets three of them go run free, but keeps a secure hold on the fourth, hoisting himself up. Memories of riding colts bareback in the fields of his father’s farm as a child come rushing back to him as he carefully twists his fingers into the stallion’s mane to ground himself, patting its side to keep it from getting skittish. He knows this is a workhorse rather than a war horse, but he’ll have to do a lot to keep it calm in the hectic battle just on the other side of the road.</p><p>There’s one bandit that’s managed to slip past the ranks the western guards are holding otherwise rather well, and Donghyuck unsheathes his sword, digging his heels into the stallion’s sides to speed into a trot. One clean swing takes the bandit down, and Donghyuck is finally thankful for those endless drills Jaehyun’s had him running with his new sword so he can get comfortable with the slight increase in the weight he has to wield.</p><p>He keeps going forward, trot speeding into a canter then a gallop as he watches the other guards — all of which he’s trained with and knows the skills of like the back of his hand — nodding to himself when he sees them holding the formation he’d planned for them at the beginning of this trip should anything like this happen. The onslaught of opponents doesn’t stop, and neither will Donghyuck.</p><p>He glances off to the side for just long enough that he can see Ryujin’s dark stallion disappearing into the forest safely, and he swears for just a second that Mark is looking back — that Mark is looking at <em> him. </em> It’s a stupid thought, one that Donghyuck brushes aside because it doesn’t matter in the face of a battle like this, adjusting his grip on his now-bloody sword, clenching his fingers just a touch tighter into the mare’s mane.</p><p>Donghyuck charges into the chaos, headfirst and without hesitation, his singular goal of keeping Mark safe at the forefront of his mind. This isn’t going to be easy, but Donghyuck would rather die than give up. There’s too much at stake.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this chapter is also part 2 in the saga of how many people will mark and hyuck kiss before they kiss each other?</p><p>and the next chapter is either going to be really short or really long again because there is deadass no good place to cut a chapter in this fic and it is a Problem</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come yell at me on my socials about anything &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/baridalive">twitter</a><br/><a href="https://curiouscat.me/baridalive">curiouscat</a><br/><a href="https://baridalive.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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